m  SPECIAL  REiEREMCE 

TO  PAINTING     i|  11 


tilNEST  GOVETl 


UBRARy 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 

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Detail  from  "The  Pursuit"  of  Fragonard. 

{Frick  Collection) 


Art  Principles 

With  Special  Reference  to  Painting 


Together    with    Notes    on    the 
Illusions  Produced  by  the  Painter 


By 

Ernest  Govett 


With  Thirty>'one  Illustrations 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  and  London 

^be    "Unicfterbocher    press 

1919 


Copyright,  1919 

BY 

ERNEST  GOVETT 


nEPLACWW 


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Ube  ftnfcberbocfter  press,  "Hew  HJorft 


H7A-Z5' 


PREFACE 

This  book  is  put  forward  with  much  diffidence, 
for  I  am  well  aware  of  its  insufficiencies.  My  original 
idea  was  to  produce  a  work  covering  all  the  principles 
of  painting,  but  after  many  years  spent  in  considering 
the  various  recorded  theories  relating  to  aesthetic 
problems,  and  in  gathering  materials  to  indicate 
how  the  accepted  principles  have  been  applied,  I 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  a  single  life  is  scarcely 
long  enough  for  the  preparation  of  an  exhaustive 
treatise  on  the  subject.  Nevertheless,  I  planned  a 
work  of  much  wider  scope  than  the  one  now  pre- 
sented, but  various  circumstances,  and  principally 
the  hindrance  to  research  caused  by  the  war,  im- 
pelled me  to  curtail  my  ambition.  Time  was  fading, 
and  my  purpose  seemed  to  be  growing  very  old.  I 
felt  that  if  one  has  something  to  say,  it  is  better  to 
say  it  incompletely  than  to  run  the  risk  of  compul- 
sory silence.  The  book  will  be  found  little  more  than 
a  skeleton,  and  some  of  its  sections,  notably  those 
dealing  with  illusions  in  the  art,  contain  only  a  few 
suggestions  and  instances,  but  perhaps  enough  is 
said  to  induce  a  measure  of  further  inquiry  into  the 
subject. 

That  part  of  the  work  dealing  with  the  fine  arts 
generally  is  the  result  of  long  consideration  of  the 


ivi65G4r^ 


::*j»*«* 


iv  Preface 

apparent  contradictions  involved  in  the  numerous 
suggested  standards  of  art.  In  a  little  book  on 
The  Position  of  Landscape  in  Art  (published  under 
a  nom  de  plume  a  few  years  ago),  I  threw  out,  as  a 
ballon  d'essai,  an  idea  of  the  proposition  now  elabo- 
rated as  the  Law  of  General  Assent,  and  I  have  been 
encouraged  to  affirm  this  proposition  more  strongl}^ 
by  the  fact  that  its  validity  was  not  questioned  in 
any  of  the  published  criticism  of  the  former  work; 
nor  do  I  find  reason  to  vary  it  after  years  of  additional 
deliberation.  I  have  not  before  dealt  with  the  other 
propositions  now  put  forward. 

The  notes  being  voluminous  I  have  relegated  them 
to  the  end  of  the  book,  leaving  the  feet  of  the  text 
pages  for  references  only. 

Where  foreign  works  quoted  have  been  translated 
into  English,  the  English  titles  are  recorded,  and 
foreign  quotations  are  given  in  English,  save  in  one 
or  two  minor  instances  where  the  sense  could  not 
be  precisely  rendered  in  translation. 

E.  G. 

New  York,  January,  1919- 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction  ......         i 

Definitions  of  "Art"  and  "Beauty" — .^^Isthetic  systems 
— The  earliest  Art — Art  periods — The  Grecian  and 
Italian  developments — National  and  individual  "In- 
spiration"— Powers  of  imagination  and  execution — 
Nature  of  "Genius" — The  Impressionist  Movement — 
Sprezzatura — The  broad  manner — Position  in  art  of 
Rembrandt  and  Velasquez — Position  of  Landscape  in 
art. 

BOOK    I 
CHAPTER 

I. — Classification  of  the  Fine  Arts  .       52 

The  Arts  imitative  of  Nature — Classified  according  to 
the  character  of  their  signs — Relative  value  of  form 
in  Poetry — Scope  of  the  Arts  in  the  production  of 
beauty. 

II. — Law  of  Recognition  in  the  x\ssociated 
Arts.         ......       59 

Explanation  of  the  Law — Its  application  to  Poetry — To 
Sculpture — To  Painting — To  Fiction. 

III. — Law  of  General  Assent        ...       72 

General  opinion  the  test  of  beauty  in  the  Associated  Arts. 

IV. — Limitations  of  the  Associated  Arts  78 

Production  of  beauty  in  the  respective  Arts — Their  limi- 
tations. 


V. — Degrees  of  Beauty  in  the  Painter's  Art      83 

V 


vi  Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

VI. — Expression.     Part  i. — The  Ideal  .  .       86 


VII. — Expression.     Part  2. — Christian  Ideals       91 

The  Deity — Christ — The  Madonna — Madonna  and 
Child. 

VIII. — Expression.     Part  3. — Classical  Ideals     106 

Ideals  of  the  Greeks — Use  of  the  ancient  divinities  by  the 
Painter. 

IX. — Expression.    Part  4. — General  Ideals       135 
X. — Expression.     Part.  5. — Portraiture     ,       141 

Limitations  of  the  Portrait  Painter — Emphasis  and 
addition  of  quaUties  in  portrait  painting — Practice 
of  the  ancient  Greeks — Dignity — Importance  of 
Simplicity — Some  of  the  great  masters — Portraiture  of 
women — The  English  masters — The  quality  of  Grace — 
The  necessity  for  Repose. 

XI. — Expression.      Part    6. — Miscellaneous     167 

Grief— The  Smile — The  Open  Mouth — Contrasts- 
Representation  of  Death. 

XII. — Landscape     ......     192 

Limitations  of  the  Landscape  Painter — Illusion  of  open- 
ing distance — Illusion  of  motion  in  Landscape — Moon- 
light scenes — Transient  conditions. 

XIII.— Still-life 214 

XIV. — Secondary  Art  .  .  .  .219 

Paintings  of  record — Scenes  from  the  Novel — From  the 
written  drama — From  the  acted  drama — Humorous 
subjects — Allegorical  paintings. 

XV.— Colour 228 


Contents  vii 

BOOK  II 

PAGE 

Introductory. — Illusion  in  the  Painter's  Art     236 

CHAPTER 

I. — Illusion  of  Relief        ....     239 

II. — Illusion    of    Motion    with    Men    and 
Animals    .......     249 

III. — Illusion  of  Suspension  and  Motion  in 
the  Air     .......     259 

Notes      ........     273 

Index  of  Artists  and  Works  of  Art  Mentioned 

in  this  Book     ......     357 

General  Index 369 


LIST  OF  PLATES 

PAGE 

Frontispiece. — Detail  from  Fragonard's  The 
Pursuit  (Frick  Collection,  New  York). 

This  work,  which  is  one  of  the  celebrated  Grasse  series  of 
panels,  offers  a  very  fine  example  of  the  use  of  an  ideal 
head  in  a  romantic  subject.     (See  Page  139.) 

Plate  I. — The  Earliest  Great  Sculptures     .         6 

(a).  Head  from  a  statue  of  Chefren,  a  king  of  the  4th 
Egyptian  Dynasty,  about  3000  B.C.     (Cairo  Museum.) 

(b).  Head  from  a  fragmentary  statuette  of  Babylonia, 
dating  about  2600  B.C.  (Louvre:  from  Spearing's 
"Childhood  of  Art.") 

The  first  head  is  generally  regarded  as  the  finest  example  of 
Egyptian  art  extant,  and  certainly  there  was  nothing 
executed  in  Egypt  to  equal  it  during  the  thirty  centuries 
following  the  5th  Dynasty.  The  Babylonian  head  is  the 
best  work  of  Chaldean  art  known  to  us,  though  there  are 
some  fine  fragments  remaining  from  the  period  of  about  a 
thousand  years  later.  It  will  be  observed  that  the  ten- 
dency of  the  art  in  both  examples  is  towards  the  aims 
achieved  by  the  Greeks.     (See  Page  7.) 


Plate  2. — "Le  Bon    Dieu   d'Amiens",  in  the 

North  Porch,  Amiens  Cathedral      .         .       18 

This  figure  by  a  French  sculptor  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury, was  considered  by  Ruskin  to  be  the  finest  ideal 
of  Christ  in  existence.  It  is  another  example  of  the 
universality  of  ideals,  for  the  head  from  the  front  view 
might  well  have  been  modelled  from  a  Grecian  work  of 
the  late  fourth  or  early  third  century  b.c.  (See  Page  319.) 


X  List  of  Plates 


PAGE 


Plate  3. — After  an  Ancient  Copy  of  the  Cnid- 

lAN  Venus  of  Praxiteles.     (Vatican).      .       30 

It  is  commonly  agreed  that  this  is  the  finest  model  in 
existence  after  the  great  work  of  Praxiteles,  which 
itself  has  long  disappeared.  The  figure  as  it  now 
stands  at  the  Vatican,  has  the  right  arm  restored,  and 
the  hand  is  made  to  hold  up  some  metallic  drapery 
with  which  the  legs  are  covered,  the  beauty  of  the  form 
being  thus  seriously  weakened.     (See  Pages  iii  et  seq.) 

Plate  4. — Venus  Anadyomene  ...       42 

(a).  Ancient  Greek  sculpture  from  the  design  of  Venus 
in  the  celebrated  picture  of  Apelles.  (Formerly 
Chessa  Collection,  now  in  New  York.) 

The  immense  superiority  of  the  sculpture  over  the  paint- 
ing (Plate  5),  from  the  point  of  view  of  pure  art,  is 
visible  at  a  glance.  It  is  an  indication  of  the  far-reach- 
ing scope  of  the  sculptor  when  executing  ideals.  (See 
Page  113.) 

Plate  5. — Venus  Anadyomene,  from  the  Paint- 
ing BY  Titian.  (Bridgewater  Collection.) 
Compare  with  the  Sculpture  on  Plate  4. 
(See  Page  115) 42 

Plate    6. — Venus    Reposing,    by    Giorgione. 

(Dresden  Gallery) 54 

This  is  the  finest  reposing  Venus  in  existence  in  painting. 
It  was  the  model  for  the  representation  of  the  goddess 
in  repose  used  by  Titian,  and  many  other  artists  who 
came  after  him.     (See  Page  116.) 

Plate  7. — Demeter  .....       66 

(a).  Head  from  the  Cnidos  marble  figure  of  the  fourth 
century  B.C.,  attributed  to  Scopas.     (British  Museum.) 

(b).  Small  head  in  bronze  of  the  third  century  B.C. 
(Private  Collection.) 

In  each  of  these  heads  the  artist  has  been  successful  in 
maintaining  the  ideal,  while  indicating  a  suggestion  of 
the  sorrowful  resignation  with  which  Grecian  legend  has 
enveloped  the  mind  picture  of  Demeter.  Nevertheless, 
even  this  slight  departure  from  the  established  rule  tends 
to  lessen  the  art,  though  in  a  very  smaU  degree.  (See 
Page  122.) 


List  of  Plates  xi 

PAGE 

Plate  8. — Raphael's  Sistine  Madonna  (Dres- 
den Gallery),  with  the  Face  of  the  Cen- 
tral Figure  in  Fragonard's  The  Pursuit 
Substituted  for  that  of  the  Virgin  8o 

This  and  the  two  following  plates  show  very  clearly  that 
in  striving  for  an  ideal,  artists  must  necessarily  arrive  at 
the  same  general  type.     (See  Pages  138  et  seq.) 

Plate  9. — Raphael's  Virgin  of  the  Rose 
(Madrid),  with  the  Face  of  the  Figure 
Representing  Profane  Love  in  Titian's 
Picture  Substituted  for  that  of  the 
Virgin       .......       92 

Plate  10. — Raphael's  Holy  Family  (Madrid), 
WITH  the  Face  of  Luini's  Salome  Substi- 
tuted FOR  THAT  OF  THE  ViRGIN  .  .102 

Plate  ii. — The  Pursuit,  by  Fragonard.  (Frick 

Collection,  N.  Y.).         .  114 

A  detail  from  this  picture  forms  the  Frontispiece.  It  will 
be  observed  that  in  the  complete  painting  the  central 
figure  apparently  wears  a  startled  expression,  but  that 
this  is  entirely  due  to  the  surroundings  and  action,  is 
shown  by  the  substitution  of  the  face  of  the  central 
figure  for  that  of  the  Virgin  in  the  Sistine  Madonna, 
Plate  8.     (See  Page  139.) 

Plate  12. — Portrait  Heads  of  the  Greek  Type, 

Fourth    Century,  b.  c.      (See  Page  145)    .     130 

(a).     Head  of  Plato.     (Copenhagen  Museum.) 
(b).     Term  of  Euripides.     (Naples  Museum.) 

Plate  13. — Portrait  Heads  of  the  Time  of  Im- 
perial Rome.     (See  Page  145)    .  .  .      146 

(a).     Vespasian.     (Naples  Museum.) 
(b).     Hadrian.     (Athens  Museum.) 


xii  List  of  Plates 


PAGE 


Plate  14. — Sacrifice    of    Iphigenia,    from    a 

PoMPEiAN  Fresco.     (Roux  Aine's  Hercu- 

LANUM  et  Pompei,  Vol.  Ill)       .  .     1 6o 

This  work  is  presumed  to'  be  a  copy  of  the  celebrated 
picture  of  Timanthes,  in  which  the  head  of  Agamemnon 
was  hidden  because  the  artist  could  see  no  other  way 
of  expressing  extreme  grief  without  distorting  the 
features.     (See  Pages  168  and  339.) 

Plate  15. — All's   Well,  by   Winslow  Homer. 

(Boston  Museum,  U.  S.  A.)       .  .176 

An  instance  where  the  permanent  beauty  of  a  picture  is 
killed  by  an  open  mouth.  After  a  few  moments'  inspec- 
tion, it  will  be  observed  that  the  mouth  appears  to  be 
kept  open  by  a  wedge.     (See  Page  176.) 

Plate  16. — Hercules  Contemplating  Death, 
BY  A.  Pollaiuolo.  (Frick  Collection, 
New  York.) 190 

The  only  known  design  of  this  nature  which  appears  to 
exist  in  any  of  the  arts.     (See  Pages  190  and  343.) 

Plate  17. — Arcadian  Landscape,     by    Claude 

Lorraine.     (National  Gallery,  London)  .      198 

A  fine  illusion  of  opening  distance  created  by  the  precise 
rendering  of  the  aerial  perspective.  The  illusion  is  of 
course  unobservable  in  the  reproduction  owing  to  its 
small  size  and  the  want  of  colour.     (See  Page  198). 

Plate  18. — Landscape,    by    Hobbema.      (Met. 

Museum,  New  York)  .         .210 

A  fine  example  of  Hobbema's  work.  A  strong  light  is 
thrown  in  from  the  back  to  enable  the  artist  to  multiply 
his  signs  for  the  purpose  of  deepening  the  apparent 
distance.     (See  Page  202.) 

Plate  19. — Landscape,    by    Jacob    Ruysdael, 

(National  Gallery,  London)  .  220 

Example  of  an  illusion  of  movement  in  flowing  water. 
(See  Page  204.) 


List  of  Plates  xiii 

PAGE 

Plate  20. — The  Storm,  by  Jacob  Ruysdael. 

(Berlin  Gallery)   .....  232 

Exhibiting  an  excellent  illusion  of  motion,  due  to  the 
faithful  representation  of  a  series  of  consecutive  move- 
ments of  water  as  the  vessel  passes  through  it.  The 
illusion  is  practically  lost  in  the  reproduction,  but  the 
details  of  design  may  be  observed.     (See  Page  206.) 

Plate  21. — The  Litta  Madonna,  by  Lionardo 

da  Vincl     (Hermitage)     ....     240 

This  is  perhaps  the  best  example  known  of  an  illusion  of 
relief  secured  by  shading  alone.     (See  Page  240.) 

Plate  22. — Christ  on  the  Cross,  by  Van  Dyck. 

(Antwerp  Museum)  .         .         .         .         .252 

A  superb  example  of  relief  obtained  by  the  exclusion  of 
accessories.  Van  Dyck  took  the  idea  from  Rubens, 
who  borrowed  it  from  Titian,  this  artist  improving  on 
Antonella  da  Messina.  The  relief  of  course  is  not  well 
observed  in  the  reproduction  because  of  its  miniature 
form.  The  work  is  usually  regarded  as  the  finest  of 
its  kind  in  existence.     (See  Page  244.) 

Plate  23. — Patricia,  by  Lydia  Emmet.  (Private 

Possession,  N.  Y.)     .....     264 

A  very  excellent  example  of  the  plan  of  securing  relief 
described  in  Book  II,  Chap.  I.  Here  also  the  relief 
is  not  observed  in  the  reproduction,  but  the  original 
is  of  life  size  and  provides  an  illusion  as  nearly  perfect 
as  possible.     (See  Page  247.) 

Plate  24. — The  Creation  of  Adam,  by  Michel- 
angelo.    (Vatican)   .  .         .         .276 

Instance  of  the  use  of  an  oval  form  of  drapery  to  assist 
in  presenting  an  illusion  of  suspension  in  the  air. 
(See  Page  260.) 

Plate  25. — The  Pleiads,  by  M.  Schwind.    (Den- 
NER  Collection.)       .         .         ,         .         .288 

One  of  the  finest  examples  of  illusion  of  motion  in  the 
air.     (See  Page  269.) 


xiv  List  of  Plates 

PAGE 

Plate  26. — St.  Margaret,  by  Raphael.  (Louvre)  302 

Perhaps  the  best  example  in  existence  of  a  painted  human 
figure  in  action.  It  will  be  seen  that  every  part  of  the 
body  and  every  fold  of  the  drapery  are  used  to  assist 
in  the  expression  of  movement.     (See  Page  250.) 

Plate  27. — Diana  and  Nymphs  Pursued  by  Sa-    - 
TYRS,  by  Rubens.  (Prado)  .         .         .     318 

A  good  example  of  an  illusion  of  motion  created  by  show- 
ing a  number  of  persons  in  different  stages  of  a  series 
of  consecutive  actions.     (See  Page  254.) 

Plate  28. — Automedon  with  the  Horses  of 
Achilles,  by  H.  Regnault.  (Boston  Mu- 
seum, U.  S.  A.) 334 

The  extraordinary  spirit  and  action  of  these  horses  are 
above  the  experience  of  life,  but  they  do  not  appear  to 
be  beyond  the  bounds  of  possibility.  In  any  case  the 
action  is  perfectly  appropriate  here,  as  the  animals  are 
presumed  to  be  immortal.     (See  Page  256.) 

Plate  29. — Marble  Figure  of  Ariadne.  (Vati- 
can)   348 

This  work,  of  the  Hellenistic  period,  illustrates  the  possi- 
bility of  largely  varying  the  regular  proportions  of  the 
human  figure  without  injury  to  the  art,  by  the  skilful  use 
of  drapery.     (See  Page  329.) 


Art  Principles 


Art   Principles 


INTRODUCTION 

In  view  of  the  many  varied  definitions  of  "Art" 
which  have  been  put  forward  in  recent  times,  and 
the  equally  diverse  hypotheses  advanced  for  the 
solution  of  aesthetic  problems  relating  to  beauty,  it 
is  necessary  for  one  who  discusses  principles  of  art, 
to  state  what  he  understands  by  the  terms  "Art" 
and  "Beauty." 

Though  having  a  widely  extended  general  meaning, 
the  term  "Art"  in  common  parlance  applies  to  the 
fine  arts  only,  but  the  term  "Arts"  has  reference  as 
well  to  certain  industries  which  have  utility  for  their 
primary  object.  This  work  considers  only  the  fine 
arts,  and  when  the  writer  uses  the  term  "Art"  or 
"Arts"  he  refers  to  one  or  more  of  these  arts,  unless 
a  particular  qualification  is  added.  The  definition 
of  "Art"  as  applied  to  the  fine  arts,  upon  which 
he  relies,  is  "The  production  of  beauty  for  the  pur- 
pose of  giving  pleasure,"  or  as  it  is  more  precisely 
put,  "The  beautiful  representation  of  nature  for  the 
purpose  of  giving  disinterested  pleasure."  This  is, 
broadly,  the  definition  generally  accepted,   and  is 


2  Art  Principles 

certainly  the  understanding  of  art  which  has  guided 
the  hands  of  all  the  creators  of  those  great  works  in 
the  various  arts  before  which  men  have  bowed  as 
triumphs  of  human  skill. 

There  has  been  no  satisfactory  definition  of 
"Beauty,"  nor  can  the  term  be  shortly  interpreted 
until  there  is  a  general  agreement  as  to  what  it 
covers.  Much  of  the  confusion  arising  from  the 
contradictory  theories  of  aestheticists  in  respect  of 
the  perception  of  beauty  is  apparently  due  to  the 
want  of  separate  consideration  of  emotional  beauty 
and  beauty  of  mind,  that  is  to  say,  the  beauty  of 
sensorial  effects  and  beauty  of  expression  respec- 
tively. '  There  are  kinds  of  sensorial  beauty  which 
depend  for  their  perception  upon  immediately  pre- 
ceding sensory  experience,  or  particular  coexistent 
surroundings  which  are  not  necessarily  permanent, 
while  in  other  cases  a  certain  beauty  may  be  recog- 
nized and  subsequently  appear  to  vanish  altogether. 
From  this  it  is  obvious  that  any  aesthetic  system 
based  upon  the  existence  of  an  objectivity  of  beauty 
must  fall  to  the  ground.  On  the  other  hand,  with- 
out an  objectivity  there  can  be  no  system,  because 
in  its  absence  a  hne  of  reasoning  explaining  cause 
and  effect  in  the  perception  of  beauty,  which  is  open 
to  demonstration,  is  naturally  impossible.  Nor  may 
we  properly  speak  of  a  philosophy  of  art.  ^  We 
may  reasonably  consider  aesthetics  k  branch  of  psy- 
chology, but  the  emotions  arising  from  the  recogni- 
tion of  beauty  vary  only  in  degree  and  not  in  kind, 
whether  the  beauty  be  seen  in  nature  or  art.  Con- 
sequently there  can  be  no  separate  psychological  en- 


Introduction  3 

quiry  into  the  perception  of  beauty  created  by  art 
as  distinguished  from  that  observable  in  nature. 

It  must  be  a  natural  attraction  for  the  insoluble 
mysteries  of  life  that  has  induced  so  many  philoso- 
phers during  the  last  two  centuries  to  put  forward 
aesthetic  systems.  That  no  two  of  these  systems 
agree  on  important  points,  and  that  each  and  every 
one  has  crumbled  to  dust  from  a  touch  of  the  wand 
of  experience  administered  by  a  hundred  hands,  are 
well-known  facts,  yet  still  the  systems  continue  to 
be  calmly  presented  as  if  they  were  valuable  contri- 
butions to  knowledge.  Each  new  critic  in  the  do- 
main of  philosophy  carefully  and  gravely  sets  them 
up,  and  then  carefully  and  gravely  knocks  them 
down.  ^  An  excuse  for  the  systems  has  been  here 
and  there  offered,  that  the  explanations  thereof 
sometimes  include  valuable  philosophical  comments 
or  suggestions.  This  may  be,  but  students  cannot 
reasonably  be  expected  to  sift  out  a  few  oats  from 
a  bushel  of  husks,  even  if  the  supply  be  from  the  bin 
of  a  Hegel  or  a  Schopenhauer.  Is  it  too  much  to 
suggest  that  these  phantom  systems  be  finally  con- 
signed to  the  grave  of  oblivion  which  has  yawned 
for  them  so  long  and  so  conspicuously?  Bubbles 
have  certain  measurements  and  may  brilliantly  glow, 
but  they  are  still  bubbles.  It  is  as  impossible  to 
build  up  a  system  of  philosophy  upon  the  perception 
of  beauty,  which  depends  entirely  upon  physical 
and  physiological  laws,  as  to  erect  a  system  of  ethics 
on  the  law  of  gravitation,  for  a  feasible  connection 
between  superstructure  and  foundation  cannot  be 
presented  to  the  mind. 


4  Art  Principles 

We  may  further  note  that  a  proper  apprehension 
of  standards  of  judgment  in  art  cannot  be  obtained 
unless  the  separate  and  relative  aesthetic  values  of 
the  two  forms  of  beauty  are  considered,  because 
the  beauty  of  a  work  may  appear  greater  at  one  time 
than  at  another,  according  as  it  is  more  or  less  per- 
manent or  fleeting,  that  is  to  say,  according  as  the 
balance  of  the  sensorial  and  intellectual  elements 
therein  is  more  or  less  uneven;  or  if  the  beauty 
present  be  almost  entirely  emotional,  according  as 
the  observer  may  be  affected  by  independent  sensorial 
conditions  of  time  or  place.  Consequent  upon  these 
considerations,  an  endeavour  has  been  made  in  this 
work  to  distinguish  between  the  two  forms  of  beauty 
in  the  various  arts,  and  the  separate  grades  thereof. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  the  writer  has  adopted  the 
somewhat  unusual  course  of  including  fiction  among 
the  fine  arts.  Why  this  practice  is  not  commonly 
followed  is  hard  to  determine,  but  no  definition  of  a 
fine  art  has  been  or  can  be  given  which  does  not 
cover  fiction.  In  the  definition  here  accepted,  the 
art  is  clearly  included,  for  the  primary  object  of 
fiction  is  the  beautiful  representation  of  nature  for 
the  purpose  of  giving  disinterested  pleasure. 

Art  is  independent  of  conditions  of  peoples  or 
countries.  Its  germ  is  unconnected  with  civiliza- 
tion, politics,  religion,  laws,  manners,  or  morals. 
It  may  appear  like  a  brilliant  flower  where  the  mind 
of  man  is  an  intellectual  desert,  or  refuse  to  bloom 
in  the  busiest  hive  of  human  energy.  Its  mother 
is  the  imagination,  and  wherever  this  has  room  to 


Introduction  5 

expand,  there  art  will  grow,  though  the  ground  may 
be  nearly  sterile,  and  the  bud  wither  away  from  want 
of  nourishment.  Every  child  is  bom  a  potential 
artist,  for  he  comes  into  the  world  with  sensorial 
nerves,  and  a  brain  which  directs  the  imagination. 
The  primitive  peoples  made  beautiful  things  long 
before  they  could  read  or  write,  and  the  recognition 
of  harmony  of  form  appears  to  have  been  one  of  the 
first  understandings  in  life  after  the  primal  instincts 
of  self-preservation  and  the  continuation  of  the 
species.  Some  of  the  sketches  made  by  the  cave  men 
of  France  are  equal  to  anything  of  the  kind  pro- 
duced in  a  thousand  years  of  certain  ancient  civiliza- 
tions, commencing  countless  centuries  after  the 
very  existence  of  the  cave  men  had  been  forgotten ; 
and  even  if  executed  now,  would  be  recognized 
as  indicating  the  possession  of  considerable  talent 
by  the  artists.  The  greatest  poem  ever  written 
was  given  birth  in  a  country  near  which  barbaric 
hordes  had  recently  devastated  populous  cities,  and 
wrecked  a  national  fabric  with  which  were  inter- 
woven centuries  of  art  and  culture.  That  the  author 
of  this  poem  had  seen  great  works  of  art  is  certain, 
or  he  could  not  have  conceived  the  shield  of  Achilles, 
but  the  laboured  sculpture  that  had  fiired  his  imagina- 
tion, and  the  legends  which  had  perhaps  been  the 
seed  of  his  masterpieces  were  doubtless  buried  with 
his  own  records  beneath  the  tramp  of  numberless 
mercenaries.  Fortunately  here  and  there  the  human 
voice  could  draw  from  memory's  store,  and  so  the 
magic  of  Homer  was  whispered  by  the  dying  to  the 
living;  but  even  his  time  and  place  are  now  only 


6  Art  Principles 

vaguely  known,  and  he  remains  like  the  waratah  on 
the  bleached  pasture  of  some  desert  fringe — a  soli- 
tary blaze  of  scarlet  where  all  else  is  drear  and 
desolate. 

Strong  is  the  root  of  art,  though  frail  the  flower. 
Stifled  in  sun-burnt  ground  ere  it  can  welcome  the 
smile  of  light ;  fading  with  the  first  blast  of  air  upon 
its  delicate  shoots;  shrivelling  back  to  dust  when 
the  buds  are  ready  to  break ;  or  falling  in  the  struggle 
to  spread  its  branches  after  its  beautiful  blossoms 
have  scattered  their  fragrance  around:  whatever 
condition  has  brought  it  low,  it  ever  fights  again — 
ever  seeks  to  assure  mankind  that  while  it  may 
droop  or  disappear,  its  seed,  its  heart,  its  life,  are 
imperishable,  and  surely  it  will  bloom  again  in  all 
its  majesty.  Sometimes  with  decades  it  has  run  a 
fitful  course;  sometimes  with  centuries;  sometimes 
with  millenniums.  It  has  heralded  every  civilization, 
but  its  breath  is  freedom,  and  it  flourishes  and  sick- 
ens only  with  liberty.  Trace  its  course  in  the  life 
of  every  nation,  and  the  track  will  be  found  parallel 
with  the  line  of  freedom  of  thought.  A  solitary 
plant  may  bloom  unimpeded  far  from  tyranny's 
thrall,  but  the  art  and  soul  of  a  nation  live,  and  throb, 
and  die,  together. 

Egypt,  Babylon,  Crete,  Greece,  Rome,  tell  their 
stories  through  deathless  monuments,  and  all  are 
alike  in  that  they  demonstrate  the  dependence  of 
art  expansion  upon  freedom  of  action  and  opinion. 
An  art  rises,  develops  another  and  another,  and 
they  proceed  together  on  their  way.  Sooner  or 
later   comes   catastrophe  in   the  shape  of   crushing 


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Introduction  7 

tyranny  which  curbs  the  mind  with  slavery,  or  steel- 
bound  sacerdotal  rules  which  say  to  the  artist 
"Thou  shalt  go  no  further,"  or  annihilation  of  nation 
and  life.  What  imagination  can  picture  the  expan- 
sion of  art  throughout  the  world  had  its  flight  been 
free  since  the  dawn  of  history?  Greece  reached  the 
sublime  because  its  mind  was  unfettered,  but  twenty 
or  thirty  centuries  before  Phidias,  Egyptian  art  had 
arrived  at  a  loftier  plane  than  that  on  which  the 
highest  plastic  art  of  Greece  was  standing  but 
a  few  decades  before  the  Olympian  Zeus  uplifted 
the  souls  of  men,  while  whole  civilizations  with 
their  arts  had  lived  and  died,  and  were  practically 
forgotten. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  while  in  its  various  iso- 
lated developments,  art  has  proceeded  from  the 
immature  to  the  mature,  there  has  been  no  general 
evolution,  as  in  natural  life,  but  on  the  other  hand 
there  seems  to  be  a  limit  to  its  progress.  So  far  as 
our  imagination  can  divine,  no  higher  reaches  in  art 
are  attainable  than  those  already  achieved.  The 
mind  can  conceive  of  nothing  higher  than  the  spirit- 
ual, and  this  cannot  be  represented  in  art  except  by 
means  of  form;  while  within  the  range  of  human 
intelligence,  no  suggestion  of  spiritual  form  can  rise 
above  the  ideals  of  Phidias.  Of  the  purely  human 
form,  nothing  greater  than  the  work  of  Praxiteles 
and  Raphael  can  be  pictured  on  our  brains.  There 
may  be  poets  who  will  rival  Homer  and  Shakespeare, 
but  it  is  exceedingly  doubtful.  In  any  case  we  must 
discard  the  law  of  evolution  as  applicable  to  the 
arts,  with  the  one  exception  of  music,  which,  on 


8  Art  Principles 

account  of  the  special  functioning  of  its  signs,  must 
be  put  into  a  division  by  itself.* 

But  although  there  has  been  no  general  progres- 
sion in  art  parallel  with  the  growth  of  the  sciences 
and  civilization,  there  have  been,  as  already  indi- 
cated, many  separate  epochs  of  art  cultivation  in 
various  countries,  sometimes  accompanied  by  the 
production  of  immortal  works,  which  epochs  in 
themselves  seem  to  provide  examples  of  restricted 
evolution.'*  It  is  desirable  to  refer  to  these  art 
periods,  as  they  are  commonly  called,  for  the  purpose 
of  removing,  if  possible,  a  not  uncommon  apprehen- 
sion that  they  are  the  result  of  special  conditions 
operating  an  aesthetic  stimulus,  and  that  similar  or 
related  conditions  must  be  present  in  any  country  if 
the  flame  of  art  there  is  to  bum  high  and  brightly.  ^ 
The  well-defined  periods  vary  largely  both  in  char- 
acter and  duration,  the  most  important  of  them — 
the  Grecian  development  and  the  Italian  Renais- 
sance— covering  two  or  three  centuries  each,  and 
the  others,  as  the  French  thirteenth  century  sculp- 
ture expansion,  the  English  literary  revival  in  the 
sixteenth  century,^  and  the  Dutch  development  in 
painting  in  the  seventeenth,  lasting  only  a  few 
decades.  These  latter  periods  can  be  dispensed 
with  at  once  because  they  were  each  concerned  with 
one  art  only,  and  therefore  can  scarcely  have  re- 
sulted from  a  general  aesthetic  stimulus.  But  the 
Grecian  and  Italian  movements  applied  to  all  the 
arts.  They  represented  natural  developments  from 
the  crude  to   the  advanced,   of  which  all  nations 

a  See  Chap.  III. 


Introduction  9 

produce  examples,  and  were  only  exceptional  in  that 
they  reached  higher  levels  in  art  than  were  attained 
by  other  movements.  But  there  is  no  evidence  to 
show  that  they  were  brought  about  by  special  cir- 
cumstances outside  of  the  arts  themselves.  While 
there  were  national  crises  preceding  the  one  de- 
velopment, there  was  no  trouble  of  consequence  to 
herald  the  other,  nor  was  there  any  parallel  between 
the  conditions  of  the  two  peoples  during  the  progress 
of  the  movements.  A  short  reference  to  each  de- 
velopment will  show  that  its  rise  and  decline  were 
the  outcome  of  simple  matter-of-fact  conditions  of 
a  more  or  less  accidental  nature,  uninfluenced  by 
an  aesthetic  impulse  in  the  sense  of  inspiration. 

The  most  common  suggestion  advanced  to  account 
for  the  rise  in  Grecian  art,  is  that  it  was  due  to  the 
exaltation  of  the  Greek  mind  through  the  victories 
of  Marathon,  Platsea,  and  Salamis.  That  a  people 
should  be  so  trampled  upon  as  were  the  Greeks; 
that  their  cities  should  be  razed,  their  country  de- 
solated, and  their  commerce  destroyed;  that  not- 
withstanding all  this  they  should  refuse  to  give  way 
before  enemies  outnumbering  them  twenty,  fifty, 
or  even  a  hundred  to  one;  and  that  after  all  they 
should  crush  these  enemies,  was  no  doubt  a  great 
and  heroic  triumph,  likely  to  exalt  the  nation  and 
feed  the  imagination  of  the  people  for  a  long  time 
to  come;  but  that  these  victories  were  responsible 
for  the  lofty  eminence  reached  by  the  Greek  artists, 
cannot  be  maintained.  From  what  we  know  of 
Calamis,  Myron,  and  others,  it  is  clear  that  Grecian 
art  was  already  on  its  way  to  the  summit  reached 


lo  Art,  Principles 

by  Phidias  when  Marathon  and  Salamis  were  fought, 
though  the  victories  of  the  Greek  arms  hastened  the 
development  for  the  plain  reason  that  they  led  to 
an  increased  demand  for  works  of  art.  And  the 
decline  in  Grecian  art  resulted  purely  and  simply 
from  a  lessened  demand.  Though  this  was  the 
reason  for  the  general  decay,  there  was  a  special 
cause  for  the  apparent  weakening  with  the  commence- 
ment of  the  fourth  century  B.C.  In  the  fifth  cen- 
tury Phidias  climbed  as  high  in  the  accomplishment 
of  ideals  as  the  imagination  could  soar.  He  reached 
the  summit  of  himian  endeavour.  Necessarily  then, 
unless  another  Phidias  arose,  whatever  in  art  came 
after  him  would  appear  to  mark  a  decline.  But  it 
is  scarcely  proper  to  put  the  case  of  Phidias  forward 
for  comparative  purposes.  He  carried  the  art  of 
sculpture  higher  than  it  is  possible  for  the  painter 
to  ascend,  and  so  we  should  rather  use  the  giants  of 
the  fourth  century — Scopas,  Praxiteles,  Lysippus, 
Apelles — as  the  standards  to  be  compared  with  the 
foremost  spirits  of  the  Italian  Renaissance — Raphael 
and  Michelangelo — for  each  of  these  groups  achieved 
the  human  ideal,  though  failing  with  the  spiritual 
ideal  established  by  Phidias. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  all  good  art  means 
slow  work — long  thinking,  much  experiment,  tedious 
attention  to  detail  in  plan,  and  careful  execution. 
Meanwhile  men  have  to  live,  even  immortal  artists, 
and  rarely  indeed  does  one  undertake  a  work  of 
importance  on  his  own  account.  It  is  true  that  in 
the  greater  days  of  Greece  the  best  artists  were  al- 
most entirely  employed  by  a  State,  or  at  least  to 


Introduction  n 

execute  works  for  public  exhibition,  and  doubtless 
the  payment  they  received  was  quite  a  secondary 
matter  with  them,  but  nevertheless  few  could  practise 
their  art  without  remuneration.  During  the  fifth 
and  fourth  centuries  great  events  were  constantly 
happening  in  Greece,  and  in  consequence  there  were 
numberless  temples  to  build  and  adorn,  groves  to 
decorate,  men  to  honour,  and  monumental  tombs  to 
erect.  Innumerable  statues  of  gods  and  goddesses 
were  wanted,  and  we  must  not  forget  the  wholesale 
destruction  of  Athenian  and  other  temples  and 
sculptures  during  the  Persian  invasion.  In  fact  for 
a  century  and  a  half  after  Plataea,  there  was  practi- 
cally an  unlimited  demand  for  works  of  art,  and  it 
was  only  when  the  empire  of  Alexander  began  to 
crumble  away  that  conditions  changed.  While 
Greece  was  weakening  Rome  was  growing  and  her 
lengthening  shadows  were  approaching  the  walls  of 
Athens.  Greece  could  build  no  more  temples  when 
her  people  were  becoming  slaves  of  Rome;  she  could 
order  no  more  momunents  when  defeat  was  the 
certain  end  of  struggle.  And  so  the  decline  was 
brought  about,  not  by  want  of  artists,  but  through 
the  dearth  of  orders  and  the  consequent  neglect  of 
competition. 

In  the  case  of  the  Italian  Renaissance  the  de- 
cadence was  not  due  to  the  same  cause.  The  art  of 
Greece  declined  gradually  in  respect  of  quantity 
as  well  as  quality,  while  in  Italy  after  the  decay  in 
quality  set  in,  art  was  as  flourishing  as  ever  from 
the  point  of  view  of  demand.  The  change  in  the 
character  of  the  art  was  due  entirely  to  Raphael's 


12  Art  Principles 

achievements.  As  with  the  early  Greek,  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  early  Italian  art  was  concerned  with 
religion,  though  in  this  case  there  were  very  few 
ideals.  The  numerous  ancient  gods  of  Greece  and 
Rome  were  long  gone,  to  become  only  classical  heroes 
with  the  Italians,  and  their  places  were  taken  by 
twenty  or  thirty  personages  from  the  New  Testa- 
ment. Incidents  from  the  Old  Testament  were 
sometimes  painted,  but  nearly  all  the  greater  work 
dealt  with  the  life  of  Christ  and  the  Saints.  The 
painters  of  the  first  century  of  the  Renaissance  dis- 
tributed their  attention  fairly  equally  among  these 
persohages,  but  as  time  went  on  and  the  art  became 
of  a  superior  order,  artists  aimed  at  the  highest  de- 
velopment of  beauty  that  their  imaginations  could 
conceive,  and  hence  the  severe  beauty  that  might 
be  shown  in  a  picture  of  Christ  or  a  prominent  Saint, 
had  commonly  to  give  way  to  a  more  earthly  per- 
fection of  feature  and  form,  which,  suggesting  an 
ideal,  could  only  be  given  to  the  figure  of  the  Virgin. 
And  so  the  test  of  the  power  of  an  artist  came  to  be 
instinctively  decided  by  his  representation  of  the 
Madonna.  No  doubt  there  were  many  persons 
living  in  the  fifteenth  century  who  watched  the 
gradually  increasing  beauty  of  the  Madonna  as 
depicted  by  the  succession  of  great  painters  then 
working,  and  wondered  when  and  where  the  summit 
would  be  reached — when  an  artist  would  appear 
beyond  whose  work  the  imagination  could  not  pass, 
for  there  is  a  limit  to  human  powers. 

The  genius  arose  in  Raphael,  and  when  he  pro- 
duced in  the  last  ten  or  twelve  years  of  his  life. 


Introduction  13 

Madonna  after  Madonna,  so  far  in  advance  of  any- 
thing that  had  hitherto  been  done,  so  great  in  beauty 
as  to  leave  his  fellow  artists  lost  in  wonder,  so  lofty 
in  conception  that  the  term  "divine"  was  applied 
to  him  in  his  lifetime,  it  was  inevitable  that  a  de- 
cadence should  set  in,  for  so  far  as  the  intelligence 
could  see,  whatever  came  after  him  must  be  inferior. 
He  did  not  ascend  to  the  height  of  Phidias,  for  a 
pure  ideal  of  spiritual  form  is  beyond  the  power  of 
the  painter,^  but  as  with  Praxiteles  he  reached  a 
perfect  human  ideal,  and  so  gained  the  supreme 
pinnacle  of  his  art.  But  while  there  was  an  inevi- 
table decadence  after  him,  as  after  Praxiteles,  it  was, 
as  already  indicated,  only  in  the  character  of  the 
art,  for  in  Italy  artists  generally  were  as  busy  for 
a  hundred  years  after  Raphael,  as  during  his  time. 
Michelangelo,  Titian,  and  the  other  giants  who  were 
working  when  Raphael  died,  kept  up  the  renown  of 
the  period  for  half  a  century  or  so,  but  it  seemed  im- 
possible for  artists  who  came  on  the  scene  after 
Raphael's  death,  to  enter  upon  an  entirely  original 
course.  The  whole  of  the  new  generation  seemed 
to  cling  to  the  models  put  forward  by  the  great 
Urbino  painter,  save  some  of  the  Venetians  who  had 
a  model  of  their  own  in  Titian. 

Thus  it  is  clear  that  the  rise  and  decline  of  the 
Grecian  and  Italian  movements  were  due  to  well 
ascertained  causes  which  had  nothing  to  do  with  a 
national  aesthetic  impulse;  nor  is  there  evidence  of 
such  an  impulse  connected  with  other  art  develop- 
ments. 

a  See  Chap.  IX. 


14  Art  Principles 

The  suggestion  that  a  nation  may  be  assisted  in 
its  art  by  emotional  or  psychological  influences 
arising  from  patriotic  exaltation,  is  only  an  exten- 
sion of  an  opinion  commonly  held,  that  the  indi- 
vidual artist  is  subject  to  similar  influences,  though 
due  to  personal  exaltation  connected  with  his  art. 
It  is  as  well  to  point  out  that  there  is  only  one  way 
to  produce  a  work  of  art,  and  that  is  to  combine  the 
exercise  of  the  imagination  with  skill  in  execution. 
The  artist  conceives  an  idea  and  puts  it  into  form. 
He  does  nothing  more.  He  can  rely  upon  no  extra- 
neous influence.  It  is  suggested  that  to  bring  about 
a  supreme  accomplishment  in  art,  the  imagination 
must  be  associated  with  something  outside  of  our 
power  of  control — some  impulse  which  acts  upon 
the  brain  but  is  independent  of  it.  This  unmeasured 
force  or  lever  is  usually  known  by  the  term  * '  Inspira- 
tion." It  is  supposed  that  this  force  comes  to  cer- 
tain persons  when  they  have  particular  moods  upon 
them,  and  gives  them  a  great  idea  which  they  may 
use  in  a  painting,  a  poem,  or  a  musical  composition. 
The  suggestion  is  attractive,  but  in  the  long  range 
of  historical  record  there  is  no  evidence  that  acci- 
dent, in  the  shape  of  inspiration  or  other  psycholog- 
ical lever,  has  been  responsible  in  the  slightest 
degree  for  the  production  of  a  work  of  art.  The 
writer  of  a  sublime  poem,  or  the  painter  of  a  perfect 
Madonna,  uses  the  same  kind  of  mental  and  mate- 
rial labour  as  the  man  who  chisels  a  lion's  head  on  a 
chair,  or  adds  a  filigree  ornament  to  a  bangle.  The 
difference  is  one  of  degree  only.  The  poet  or  painter 
is  gifted  with   a  vivid  imagination  which  he  has 


Introduction  15 

cultivated  by  study;  and  by  diligence  has  acquired 
superlative  facility  in  execution,  which  he  uses  to 
the  best  advantage.  The  work  of  the  furniture 
carver  or  jeweller  does  not  require  such  high  powers, 
and  he  climbs  only  a  few  steps  of  the  ladder  whose 
uppermost  rungs  have  been  scaled  by  the  greater 
artists. 

If  in  the  course  of  the  five  and  twenty  centuries 
during  which  works  of  high  art  have  been  produced, 
some  of  them  had  been  executed  with  the  assistance 
of  a  psychological  impulse  directed  independently 
of  the  will,  there  would  certainly  have  been  refer- 
ences to  the  phenomenon  by  the  artists  concerned, 
or  the  very  numerous  art  historians,  but  without  a 
known  exception,  all  the  great  artists  who  have  left 
any  record  of  the  cause  of  their  success,  or  whose 
views  on  the  subject  are  to  be  gained  by  indirect 
references,  have  attributed  this  success  to  hard 
study,  or  manual  industry,  or  both  together.  We 
know  little  of  the  opinion  of  the  ancient  Greeks  on 
the  matter,  but  the  few  anecdotes  we  have,  indicate 
that  their  artists  were  very  practical  men  indeed, 
and  hardly  likely  to  expect  mysterious  psychological 
influences  to  help  them  in  their  work.  So  with  the 
Romans,  and  it  is  noticeable  that  the  key  to  the 
production  of  beauty  in  poetry,  in  the  opinion  of 
Virgil  and  Horace,  is  careful  preparation  and  un- 
limited revision.  This  appears  to  be  the  view  of 
some  modem  poets,  and  if  Dante,  Shakespeare,  and 
Milton,  had  experienced  visionary  inspiration,  we 
should  surely  have  heard  of  it.  Fortunately  some 
of  the  most  eminent  painters  of  modern  times  have 


i6  Art  Principles 

expressed  themselves  definitely  upon  the  point. 
Lionardo  observed  that  the  painter  arrives  at  per- 
fection by  manual  operation;  and  Michelangelo 
asserted  that  Raphael  acquired  his  excellence  by 
study  and  application.  Rubens  praised  his  brushes, 
by  which  he  meant  his  acquired  facility,  as  the 
instriunents  of  his  fortune;  and  Nicholas  Poussin 
attributed  his  success  to  the  fact  that  he  neglected 
nothing,  referring  of  course  to  his  studies.  Accord- 
ing to  his  biographers,  the  triumphs  of  Claude  were 
due  to  his  untiring  industry,  while  Reynolds  held 
that  nothing  is  denied  to  well  directed  labour.  And 
so  with  many  others  down  to  Turner,  whose  secret 
according  to  Ruskin,  was  sincerity  and  toil. 

It  would  seem  to  be  possible  for  an  artist  to  work 
himself  into  a  condition  of  emotional  excitement,  ^ 
either  involuntarily  when  a  great  thought  comes  to 
him,  or  voluntarily  when  he  seeks  ideas  wherewith 
to  execute  a  brilliant  conception;  and  it  is  compre- 
hensible that  when  in  this  condition,  which  is  practi- 
cally an  extreme  concentration  of  his  mental  energy 
upon  the  purpose  in  hand,  images  or  other  aesthetic 
suggestions  suitable  for  his  work  may  present  them- 
selves to  his  mind.  These  he  might  regard  as  the 
result  of  inspiration,  but  in  reality  they  would  be 
the  product  of  a  trained  imagination  operating 
under  advantageous  conditions. 

Nor  can  any  rule  be  laid  down  that  the  character 
or  temperament  of  an  artist  influences  his  work,  for 
if  instances  can  be  given  in  support  of  such  an  asser- 
tion, at  least  an  equal  number  may  be  adduced 
which  directly  oppose  it.    If  we  might  approximately 


Introduction  17 

gauge  the  true  characters  of  Fra  Angelico  and  Michel- 
angelo from  a  study  of  their  work,  it  is  certain  that 
no  imagination  could  conjure  up  the  actual  person- 
alities of  Perugino  and  Cellini,  from  an  examination 
of  the  paintings  of  the  one  and  the  sculptures  of  the 
other.  What  can  be  said  on  the  subject  when  as- 
sassins of  the  nature  of  Corenzio  and  Caravaggio 
painted  so  many  beautiful  things,  and  evil-minded 
men  like  Ribera  and  Battistello  adorned  great 
churches  with  sacred  compositions?  If  the  work 
of  Claude  appears  to  harmonize  with  his  character, 
that  of  Turner  does  not.  "Friendless  in  youth: 
loveless  in  manhood;  hopeless  in  death."  Such 
was  Turner  according  to  Ruskin,  but  is  there  any 
sign  of  this  in  his  works?  Not  a  trace.  If  any 
conclusion  as  to  his  character  and  temperament 
can  be  drawn  from  Turner's  paintings,  it  is  that  he 
was  a  gay,  light-hearted  thinker,  with  all  the  opti- 
mism and  high  spirits  that  come  from  a  delight  in 
beautiful  things.  The  element  of  mood  is  unques- 
tionably of  importance  in  the  work  of  an  artist,  but 
it  is  not  uncommon  to  find  the  character  of  his 
designs  contrary  to  his  mood.  Poets,  as  in  the  case 
of  Hood,  or  painters  as  with  Tassaert,  may  execute 
the  most  lively  pieces  while  in  moods  verging  on 
despair.  With  some  men  adversity  quickens  the 
imagination  with  fancies;  with  others  it  benumbs 
their  faculties. 

The  tendency  of  popular  criticism  to  search  for 
psychological  phenomena  in  paintings,  apparently 
arises  largely  from  the  difficulty  in  comprehending 
how  it  is  that  certain  artists  of  high  repute  vary 


i8  Art  Principles 

their  styles  of  painting  after  many  years  of  good 
work,  and  produce  pictures  without  the  striking 
beauty  characterizing  their  former  efforts.  Some- 
times when  age  is  beginning  to  tell  upon  them,  they 
broaden  their  manner  considerably,  as  with  Rem- 
brandt and  others  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and 
many  recent  artists  of  lesser  fame.  The  critic,  very 
naturally  perhaps,  is  chary  of  condemning  work 
from  the  hand  of  one  who  has  given  evidence  of 
consimimate  skill,  and  so  seeks  for  hidden  beauties 
in  lieu  of  those  to  which  he  has  been  accustomed. 
A  simple  enquiry  into  the  matter  will  show  that 
the  change  of  style  in  these  cases  has  a  commonplace 
natural  cause. 

To  be  in  the  front  rank  an  artist  must  have  ac- 
quired a  vast  knowledge  of  the  technique  of  his  art, 
and  have  a  powerful  imagination  which  has  been 
highly  cultivated.  But  the  qualifications  must  be 
balanced.  Commonly  when  this  balance  is  not 
present  the  deficiency  is  in  the  imagination,  but 
there  are  instances  where,  though  the  power  of  execu- 
tion is  supreme,  the  imagination  has  so  far  exceeded 
all  bounds  as  to  render  this  power  of  comparatively 
small  practical  value.  The  most  conspicuous  ex- 
ample of  this  want  of  balance  is  Lionardo,  who  ac- 
complished little  though  he  was  scarcely  surpassed 
in  execution  by  Raphael  or  Michelangelo.  His 
imagination  invariably  ran  beyond  his  execution; 
his  ideas  were  always  above  the  works  he  completed 
or  partly  finished:  he  saw  in  fact  far  beyond  any- 
thing he  could  accomplish,  and  so  was  never  satis- 
fied with  the  result  of  his  labour.     At  the  same  time 


PLATE    2 


"Le  Bon  Dieu  d'Amiens" 

{Amiens  Cathedral) 

(See  page  319) 


Introduction  19 

he  was  filled  with  ideas  in  the  sciences,  and  investi- 
gated every  branch  of  knowledge  without  bringing 
his  conclusions  to  fruition.  During  the  latter  part 
of  his  life,  Michelangelo  showed  a  similar  defect 
in  a  lesser  degree,  for  his  unfinished  works  of  the 
period  exceed  in  number  those  he  completed.  Natu- 
rally such  intellectual  giants,  whose  imaginations 
cannot  be  levelled  with  the  highest  ability  in  execu- 
tion, are  few,  but  the  lesser  luminaries  who  fail,  or 
who  constantly  fail,  in  carrying  out  their  concep- 
tions, are  legion,  though  they  may  have  absorbed 
the  limit  of  knowledge  which  they  are  capable  of 
acquiring  in  respect  of  execution.  It  is  common 
for  a  painter  to  turn  out  a  few  masterpieces  and 
nothing  else  of  permanent  value.  This  was  the 
case  with  numerous  Italian  artists  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  and  it  is  indeed  a  question  whether  there 
is  one  of  them,  except  perhaps  Domenichino,  whose 
works  have  not  a  considerable  range  in  aesthetic 
value. 

There  have  been  still  more  artists  whose  powers 
of  execution  were  far  beyond  the  flights  of  their 
imaginations.  They  include  the  whole  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  Dutch  school  with  Rembrandt  at 
their  head,  and  the  whole  of  the  Spanish  school  of 
the  same  period,  except  El  Greco,  Zurbaran,  and 
Murillo.  When  an  artist  is  in  the  first  rank  in  respect 
of  execution,  but  is  distinctly  inferior  in  imaginative 
scope,  his  work  in  all  grades  of  his  art,  except  the 
highest,  where  ideals  are  possible,  seems  to  have  a 
greater  value  than  it  really  possesses  because  we 
are  insensibly  cognizant  that  the  accomplishment 


20  Art  Principles 

rises  above  the  idea  upon  which  it  is  foiinded.  On 
the  other  hand  his  work  in  the  highest  plane  appears 
to  possess  a  lower  value,  because  we  are  surprised  that 
ideals  have  not  been  attempted,  and  that  the  types 
of  the  spiritual  and  classical  personages  represented 
are  of  the  same  class  of  men  and  women  as  those 
exhibited  in  works  dealing  with  ordinary  human 
occupations  or  actions.  This  is  why  the  sacred  and 
classical  pictures  of  Rembrandt,  Vermeer  of  Delft, 
and  the  other  leading  Dutch  artists,  appear  to  be 
below  their  portrait  and  genre  work  in  power. 

The  course  of  variation  in  the  work  of  a  great 
painter  follows  the  relative  power  of  his  imagination 
and  his  execution.  Where  there  is  a  fair  balance 
between  the  two,  the  work  of  the  artist  increases  in 
aesthetic  value  with  his  age  and  experience;  but 
when  his  facility  in  execution  rises  above  the  force 
of  his  imagination,  then  his  middle  period  is  invari- 
ably the  best,  his  later  work  showing  a  gradual 
depreciation  in  quality.  The  reason  is  obvious. 
The  surety  of  the  hand  and  eye  diminishes  more 
rapidly  than  the  power  of  the  mind,  which  in  fact 
is  commonly  enhanced  with  experience  till  old  age 
comes  on.  Great  artists  who  rely  mostly  upon  their 
powers  of  execution,  and  exhibit  limited  fertility  in 
invention,  such  as  Rembrandt,  have  often  a  manner 
which  is  so  interwoven  with  the  effects  they  seek, 
that  they  are  seldom  or  never  able  to  avail  them- 
selves of  the  assistance  of  others  in  the  lesser  import- 
ant parts  of  their  work.  A  man  with  the  fertile 
mind  of  a  Rubens  may  gather  around  him  a  troupe 
of  artists  nearly  as  good  as  himself  in  execution, 


Introduction  21 

who  will  cany  out  his  designs  completely  save  for 
certain  details.  Thus  he  is  not  occupied  with 
laborious  toil,  and  the  decreasing  accuracy  of  his 
handiwork  troubles  him  but  little.  On  the  other 
hand  a  Rembrandt,  whose  merits  lie  chiefly  in  the 
delicate  manipulation  of  light  effects  and  intricate 
shades  in  expression,  remains  tied  to  his  canvas. 
He  feels  intensely  the  decreasing  facility  in  the  use 
of  his  brush  which  necessarily  accompanies  his  ad- 
vancing years,  and  his  only  recourse  from  a  stoppage 
of  work  is  an  alteration  in  manner  involving  a  reduc- 
tion of  labour  and  a  lessened  strain  upon  the  eye- 
sight. With  few  exceptions  the  great  masterpieces 
of  Rembrandt  were  produced  in  his  middle  period. 
During  the  last  ten  or  fifteen  years  of  his  life  he 
gradually  increased  his  breadth  of  manner.  He  was 
still  magnificent  in  general  expression,  but  the  inti- 
mate details  which  produced  such  glorious  effects 
in  the  great  Amsterdam  picture,  and  fifty  or  more  of 
his  single  portraits,  could  not  be  obtained  with  hog's 
hair.  * 

Disconnecting  then  the  work  of  the  artist  with 
inspiration  or  other  psychological  force,  we  may 
now  enquire  what  is  mean  by  "Genius,"  "Natural 
gift,"  or  other  term  used  to  explain  the  power  of 
an  artist  to  produce  a  great  work?  It  would  ap- 
pear that  the  answer  is  closely  concerned  with  the 
condition  of  the  sensorial  nerves  at  birth,  and  the 
precocity  or  otherwise  of  the  infantile  imagination. 
From  the  fact  that  we  can  cultivate  the  eye  and  ear 
so  as  to  recognize  forms  of  harmony  which  we  could 
not  before  perceive,  and  seeing  that  the  effect  of 


22  Art  Principles 

this  cultivation  is  permanent,  it  follows  that  exercise 
must  bring  about  direct  changes  in  the  nerves  asso- 
ciated with  these  organs,  attuning  them  so  to  speak, 
and  enabling  them  to  respond  to  newer  harmonies 
arising  from  increased  complexity  of  the  signs  used. ' 
It  is  matter  of  common  knowledge  that  the  struc- 
ture of  the  sensorial  nerves  varies  largely  in  different 
persons  at  birth,  and  when  a  boy  at  a  very  early 
age  shows  precocious  ability  in  music  or  drawing, 
we  may  properly  infer  that  the  condition  of  his 
optic  or  aural  nerves  is  comparatively  advanced, 
that  is  to  say,  it  is  much  less  rudimentary  than  that 
of  the  average  person  at  the  same  age;  in  other 
words  accident  has  given  him  a  nerve  regularity 
which  can  only  be  gained  by  the  average  boy  after 
long  exercise.  The  precocious  youth  has  not  a 
nerve  structure  superior  in  kind,  but  it  is  abnor- 
mally developed,  and  so  he  is  ahead  of  his  confreres 
in  the  matter  of  time,  for  under  equal  conditions  of 
study  he  is  sooner  able  to  arrive  at  a  given  degree 
of  skill. 

But  early  appreciation  of  complex  harmony,  and 
skill  in  execution,  are  not  enough  to  produce  a  great 
artist,  for  there  must  be  associated  with  these  things 
a  powerful  imagination .  While  the  particular  nerves 
or  vessels  of  the  brain  with  which  the  imagination 
is  concerned  have  not  been  identified,  we  know  by 
analogy  and  experience  that  the  exercise  of  the 
imagination  like  that  of  any  other  function,  is  neces- 
sary for  its  development,  and  according  as  we  allow 
it  to  remain  in  abeyance  so  we  reduce  its  active 
value.     Clearly  also,  the  seat  of  the  imagination 


Introduction  23 

at  birth  is  less  rudimentary  in  some  persons  than 
in  others.  From  these  facts  it  would  appear  that 
when  both  the  sensory  nerve  structure  and  the  seat 
of  the  imagination  are  advanced  at  birth,  then  we 
have  the  basis  upon  which  the  precocious  genius  is 
built  up.  With  such  conditions,  patient  toil  and 
deep  study  are  alone  necessary  to  produce  a  sublime 
artist.  Evidently  it  is  extremely  rare  for  the  imag- 
ination and  nerve  structure  to  be  together  so  ad- 
vanced naturally,  but  commonly  one  is  more  than 
rudimentary,  and  the  deficiency  in  the  other  is 
compensated  for  by  study.  ^° 

Of  course  these  observations  are  general,  for  there 
arises  the  question,  to  what  extent  can  the  senses 
and  imagination  be  trained  ?  We  may  well  conceive 
that  there  is  a  limit  to  the  development  of  the  sense 
organs.  There  must  come  a  period  when  the  optic 
or  aural  nerves  can  be  attuned  no  further ;  and  is  the 
limit  equal  in  all  persons?  The  probability  is  that 
it  is  not.  The  physical  character  of  the  nerves 
almost  certainly  varies  in  different  persons,  some 
being  able  to  appreciate  more  complex  harmonies 
than  others,  granted  the  limit  of  development.  This 
is  a  point  which  has  to  be  considered,  particularly 
in  the  case  of  music  wherein  as  a  rule,  the  higher 
the  beauty  the  more  complex  the  combinations  of 
signs.  There  is  a  parallel  problem  to  solve  in  respect 
of  the  imagination.  We  can  well  believe  that  there 
was  something  abnormal  in  the  imagination  of 
Shakespeare,  beyond  the  probabiUty  that  in  his 
case  the  physiological  system  controlling  the  seat 
of  the  imagination  was  unusually  advanced  at  birth. 


24  Art  Principles 

It  is  quite  certain  that  with  such  a  man  a  given 
training  would  result  in  a  far  greater  advance  in  the 
functioning  capacity  of  the  imagination,  than  in 
the  vast  majority  of  persons  who  might  commence 
the  training  on  apparently  equal  terms ;  and  he  would 
be  able  to  go  further — to  surpass  the  point  which 
might  be  the  limit  of  development  with  most 
persons. 

These  questions  are  of  the  highest  importance, 
but  they  cannot  be  determined.  We  are  acquainted 
with  certain  facts  relating  to  the  general  develop- 
ment of  the  sense  organs,  and  of  the  imagination; 
and  in  regard  to  the  former  we  know  that  there  is 
a  limit  within  comprehensible  bounds,  but  we  see 
only  very  dimly  anything  finite  in  the  scope  of  the 
imagination.  With  what  other  term  than  "limit- 
less" can  we  describe  the  imagination  of  a  Shakes- 
peare ?  But  in  all  cases,  whatever  the  natural  condi- 
tions at  birth,  it  is  clear  that  hard  work  is  the  key 
to  success  in  art,  and  though  some  must  work  harder 
than  others  to  arrive  at  an  equal  result,  it  is  satis- 
factory to  know  that  generally  Carlyle  was  right 
when  he  described  "genius"  as  the  transcendent 
capacity  for  taking  trouble,  and  we  are  not  surprised 
that  Cicero  should  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
diligence  is  a  virtue  that  seems  to  include  all  the 
others. 

Seeing  that  the  conclusions  above  defined  (and 
some  to  be  later  drawn),  are  not  entirely  in  accord 
with  a  large  part  of  modem  criticism  based  upon 
what  are  commonly  described  as  new  and  improved 
forms  of  the  painter's  art,  it  is  necessary  to  refer 


Introduction  25 

to  these  forms,  which  are  generally  comprehended 
under  what  is  known  as  Impressionism.^  Alas,  to 
the  frailty  of  man  must  we  ascribe  the  spread  of 
this  movement,  which  has  destroyed  so  many  bright 
young  intellects,  and  is  at  this  moment  leading 
thousands  of  gentle  spirits  along  the  level  path  which 
ends  in  despair.  For  the  real  road  of  art  is  steep, 
and  difficult,  and  long.  Year  upon  year  of  patient 
thought,  patient  observation,  and  patient  toU,  lie 
ahead  of  every  man  who  covets  a  crown  of  success 
as  a  painter.  He  must  seek  to  accumulate  vast 
stores  of  knowledge  of  the  human  form  and  its  anat- 
omy, of  nature  in  her  prolific  variety,  of  linear  and 
aerial  perspective,  of  animals  which  move  on  land 
or  through  the  air,  of  the  laws  of  colours  and  their 
combinations.  He  must  sound  the  depths  of  poetry, 
and  sculpture,  and  architecture;  absorb  the  cream 
of  sacred  and  profane  history;  and  with  all  these 
things  and  many  more,  he  must  saturate  his  mind 
with  the  practical  details  of  his  art.  Every  artist 
whose  work  the  world  has  learned  to  admire  has 
done  his  best  to  gain  this  knowledge,  and  certainly 
no  great  design  was  ever  produced  by  one  whose 
youth  and  early  manhood  were  not  worn  with  ardent 
study.  For  knowledge  and  experience  are  the  only 
foundations  upon  which  the  imagination  can  build. 
Every  new  conception  is  a  rearrangement  of  known 

a  The  varied  interpretations  of  Impressionism  are  referred  to  else- 
where (see  page  ).  When  using  the  term  in  this  book  without 
qualification,  the  writer  means  thereby  the  subordination  of  design 
to  colour,  which  definition  covers  all  the  forms  of  the  "  new  art " 
without  going  beyond  any  of  them. 


26  Art  Principles 

signs,  and  the  imagination  is  powerless  to  arrange 
them  appropriately  without  a  thorough  comprehen- 
sion of  their  character  and  significance. 

This  then  is  the  programme  of  work  which  must 
be  adopted  by  any  serious  aspirant  to  fame  in  the 
art  of  the  painter,  and  it  is  perhaps  not  surprising 
that  the  number  of  artists  who  survive  the  ordeal 
is  strictly  limited.  In  any  walk  of  life  where  years 
of  struggle  are  necessary  for  success,  how  small  the 
proportion  of  men  who  persevere  to  the  end;  who 
present  a  steel  wall  to  misfortune  and  despair,  and 
with  an  indomitable  will,  overcome  care,  and  worry, 
and  fatigue,  for  year  after  year,  till  at  last  the  clouds 
disappear,  and  they  are  able  to  front  the  world  with 
an  all-powerful  shield  of  radiant  knowledge!  But 
unfortunately  in  the  painter's  art  it  is  difficult  to 
convince  students  of  the  necessity  for  long  and 
hard  study,  because  there  is  no  definite  standard 
for  measuring  success  or  failure  which  they  can 
grasp  without  long  experience.  In  industries  where 
knowledge  is  applied  to  improvement  in  appliances, 
or  methods  with  definite  ends,  or  to  the  realization 
of  projects  having  a  fixed  scope,  failure  is  determined 
by  material  results  measured  commonly  by  mathe- 
matical processes  of  one  kind  or  another.  A  man 
produces  a  new  alloy  which  he  claims  will  fulfil  a 
certain  purpose.  It  is  tested  by  recognized  means: 
all  concerned  admit  the  validity  of  the  test,  and  there 
the  matter  ends.  But  in  the  arts,  while  the  relative 
value  of  the  respective  grades  is  equally  capable  of 
demonstration,  the  test  is  of  a  different  kind.  In- 
stead of    weights  and   measures  which  every  man 


Introduction  27 

can  apply,  general  experience  must  be  brought  in. 
The  individual  may  be  right  in  his  judgment,  and 
commonly  is,  but  he  is  unable  to  measure  the  evi- 
dence of  his  senses  by  material  demonstration,  and 
as  he  has  no  means  of  judging  whether  his  senses 
are  normal,  except  by  comparison,  he  is  liable  to 
doubt  his  own  experience  if  it  clash  with  that  of 
others.  Thus,  he  may  find  but  little  beauty  in  a 
given  picture,  and  then  may  read  or  hear  that  the 
work  has  a  high  aesthetic  value,  and  without  calling 
to  mind  the  fact  that  no  evidence  in  the  matter  is 
conclusive  unless  it  be  based  on  general  experience, 
he  is  liable  to  believe  that  his  own  perception  is  in 
some  way  deficient. 

Thus  in  the  arts,  and  particulariy  in  painting, 
there  is  ample  scope  for  the  spread  of  false  principles. 
Poetry  has  an  advantage  in  that  the  intellect  must 
first  be  exercised  before  the  simplest  pictures  are 
thrown  on  the  brain,  so  feeble  or  eccentric  verse  ap- 
peals to  very  few  persons,  and  seldom  has  a  clientele, 
if  one  may  use  the  word,  outside  of  small  coteries 
of  weak  thinkers.  It  is  difficult  also  in  sculpture 
to  put  forward  poor  works  as  of  a  high  order,  be- 
cause this  art  deals  almost  entirely  with  simple 
human  and  animal  forms  in  respect  of  which  the 
knowledge  is  universal,  and  so  as  signs  they  cannot 
be  varied  except  in  the  production  of  what  would 
be  immediately  recognized  as  monstrosities.  But 
in  painting  an  immense  variety  in  kind  of  beauty 
may  be  produced,  from  a  simple  colour  harmony 
to  the  representation  of  ideal  forms  involving  the 
highest  sensorial  and  intellectual  reaches,  and  there 


28  Art  Principles 

is  ample  scope  for  the  misrepresentation  of  aesthetic 
effects — for  the  suggestion  that  a  work  yielding  a 
momentary  appeal  to  the  senses  is  superior  to  a 
high  form  of  permanent  beauty. 

It  is  to  the  ease  with  which  simple  forms  of  ephe- 
meral beauty  may  be  produced  in  painting  that  is 
due  the  large  number  of  artists  who  should  never 
have  entered  upon  the  profession.  Nearly  every 
person  of  average  intelligence  is  capable  with  a  few 
lessons  of  producing  excellent  imitations  of  natural 
things  in  colour,  as  for  instance,  flowers,  bits  of 
landscape,  and  so  on,  and  great  numbers  of  young 
men  and  women,  surprised  at  the  facility  with  which 
this  work  can  be  done,  erroneously  suppose  that 
nature  has  endowed  them  with  special  gifts,  and  so 
take  up  the  art  of  painting  as  a  career.  Hence  for 
every  sculptor  there  are  twenty  painters.  Now 
these  youthful  aspirants  usually  start  with  deter- 
mination and  hope,  but  although  they  know  the 
value  of  studious  toil,  they  rarely  comprehend  that 
this  toil,  long  continued,  is  the  only  key  to  success. 
Most  of  them  seem  under  the  impression  that  in- 
spiration will  come  to  their  assistance,  and  that 
their  genius  will  enable  them  to  dispense  with  much 
of  the  labour  which  others,  less  fortunate,  must 
undertake.  They  do  not  understand  that  all  paint- 
ers, even  a  Raphael,  must  go  through  long  years  of 
hard  application. 

We  need  not  be  surprised  that  there  should  be 
occasional  eruptions  in  art  circles  tending  to  the 
exaltation  of  the  immature  at  the  expense  of  the 
superior,  or  even  the  sublime,  for  we  have  always 


Introduction  29 

with  us  the  undiligent  man  of  talent,  and  the  "un- 
recognized genius."  But  hitherto,  movements  of 
the  kind  have  not  been  serious,  for  with  one  excep- 
tion they  are  lost  in  oblivion,  and  the  exception  is 
little  more  than  a  vague  memory.  That  the  present 
movement  should  have  lasted  so  long  is  not  difficult 
to  understand  when  we  remember  the  modern  ad- 
vantages for  the  spread  of  new  sensations — the 
exhibitions,  the  unlimited  advertising  scope,  and 
above  all  the  new  criticism,  with  its  extended  vocab- 
ulary, its  original  philosophy,  and  its  boundless 
discoveries  as  to  the  psychological  and  musical 
qualities  of  paint.  That  history  is  silent  as  to  pre- 
vious eruptions  of  the  kind  before  the  seventeenth 
century  is  a  matter  of  regret.  It  is  unlikely  that 
the  greatest  of  all  art  epochs  experienced  an  impres- 
sionist fever,  for  one  cannot  imagine  the  spread  of 
spurious  principles  within  measurable  distance  of  a 
State  (Thebes)  which  went  so  far  as  to  prohibit  the 
representation  of  unbeautiful  things.  In  respect  of 
poetry  we  know  that  the  Greeks  stood  no  nonsense, 
for  did  not  Zoilus  suffer  an  ignominious  death  for 
venturing  upon  childish  criticism  of  Homer?  In 
Rome  eccentric  painters  certainly  found  some  means 
to  thrive,  for  where  "Bohemian"  poets  gathered, 
who  neglected  the  barber  and  the  bath,  and  pre- 
tended an  aesthetic  exclusiveness,  there  surely  would 
painters  of  "isms"  be  found  in  variety.  Naturally 
in  the  early  stages  of  the  Renaissance,  when  patron- 
age of  the  arts  was  almost  confined  to  the  Church, 
and  so  went  hand  in  hand  with  learning,  inferior 
art  stood  small  chance  of  recognition;  and  a  little 


30  Art  Principles 

later  when  Lorenzo  gathered  around  him  the  intel- 
lectual cream  of  Italy;  when  the  pupils  of  Dona- 
tello  were  spreading  the  light  of  his  genius ;  when  the 
patrician  beauties  of  Florence  were  posing  for  Ghir- 
landaio  and  his  brilliant  confreres,  and  when  the 
minds  of  Lionardo  and  Michelangelo  were  blooming ; 
who  would  have  dared  to  talk  of  the  psychological 
qualities  of  paint,  or  suggest  the  composition  of  a 
fresco  "symphony"? 

But  another  century  and  more  passed  away.  The 
blaze  of  the  Renaissance  had  gone  down,  but  the  em- 
bers were  kept  alive,  for  Italy  still  seemed  to  vibrate 
with  a  desire  to  paint.  Simultaneously  in  Flanders, 
in  Holland,  in  France,  and  in  England,  private 
citizens  appeared  to  develop  a  sudden  demand  for 
pictures,  and  quite  naturally  artists  multiplied  and 
fed  the  flame.  Outside  of  Italy  the  hustle  and  bustle 
in  the  art  world  were  novelties  to  the  general  public, 
though  pleasant  ones  withal,  and  for  half  a  century 
or  more  they  delighted  in  the  majestic  designs  of 
Rubens  and  Van  Dyck,  the  intimate  scenes  of  the 
Dutch  artists,  and  the  delicate  landscapes  of  Claude 
and  Poussin  and  their  followers,  which  were  continu- 
ally finding  their  way  from  Rome.  The  simplicity 
of  the  people  protected  the  arts.  They  knew  the 
hard  labour  involved  in  the  production  of  a  picture ; 
the  worries,  the  struggles,  the  joys  of  the  painters; 
and  daily  saw  beautiful  imitations  of  every-day  life 
in  the  shops  and  markets.  They  must  have  been 
proud  of  them — insensibly  proud  of  the  value  of 
human  endeavour.  For  them  the  sham  and  imma- 
ture had  no  place:  there  is  not  a  single  example  of 


PLATE    3 


Ancient  Copy  of  the  Cnidian  Venus  of  Praxiteles 

(Vatican)  (See  page  iii) 


Introduction  31 

spurious  art  of  the  first  three  quarters  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  that  has  come  down  to  us  from  Hol- 
land or  Flanders.  But  while  the  Dutch  school  was 
at  the  height  of  its  fame,  a  change  was  marking 
Italian  art  conditions.  The  half  score  of  academies 
scattered  through  the  country  were  still  in  a  state 
of  activity,  carrying  on,  as  far  as  they  could,  the 
traditions  of  the  Renaissance:  from  all  parts  of 
Europe  students  were  still  pouring  in,  endeavouring 
to  glean  the  secrets  of  the  immortals ;  and  there  was 
no  apparent  decrease  in  the  demand  for  pictures 
from  the  religious  foundations  and  private  buyers. 
But  the  character  of  the  art  produced  was  rapidly 
declining:  the  writing  on  the  wall  was  being  done 
by  the  hand  that  wielded  the  brush.  As  a  necessary 
consequence  the  trader  was  called  in  and  art  began 
to  be  commercialized.  Worse  still,  fashions  ap- 
peared, guided  by  successive  masters  in  the  various 
centres,  often  with  an  influence  quite  out  of  propor- 
tion with  their  merits. 

By  the  middle  of  the  century  a  general  fall  in 
activity  and  enthusiasm  was  noticeable.  The  dis- 
ciples of  the  Roman  school,  largely  through  the 
pernicious  influence  of  Bernini,  had  nearly  forgotten 
the  great  lessons  taught  by  the  followers  of  Raphael, 
and  later  by  the  three  Carracci,  and  were  fast  de- 
scending below  mediocrity ;  the  Florentine  school  in- 
cluded half  la  dozen  good  painters,  mostly  students 
of  Berritini:  Venice  was  falling  into  a  stagnation 
in  which  she  remained  till  the  appearance  of  Longhi 
and  Tiepolo  and  their  brethren ;  Bologna  was  living 
on  the  reputation  of  the  Carracci,  and  had  yet  to 


32  Art  Principles 

recover  with  the  aid  of  Cignani:  Milan  and  Genoa 
as  separate  schools  had  practically  faded  away; 
and  the  Neapolitan  school  was  relying  on  Salvator 
Rosa,  though  Luca  Giordano  was  growing  into  an 
inexhaustible  hive  of  invention.  This  was  the  con- 
dition of  Italian  art,  while  political  and  other  troubles 
were  further  complicating  the  position  of  artists. 
For  most  of  them  the  time  was  gloomy  and  the  future 
dark.  A  few  turned  to  landscape ;  others  extended 
the  practice  of  copying  the  early  masters  for  the 
benefit  of  foreign  capitals,  while  some  sought  for 
novelty  in  still-life,  or  in  the  then  newly  practised 
pastel  work.  But  there  was  a  considerable  number 
who  would  have  none  of  these  things ;  some  of  them 
with  talent  but  lacking  industry,  and  others  with 
industry  but  void  of  imagination.  What  were  these 
to  do  at  a  time  when  at  the  best  the  outlook  was 
poor? 

An  answer  came  to  this  question.  A  new  taste 
must  be  cultivated,  and  for  an  art  that  required  less 
study  and  trouble  to  produce  than  the  sublime  forms 
with  which  the  Renaissance  culminated.  So  whis- 
pers went  round  that  Raphael  was  not  really  so  great 
a  master  as  was  supposed,  and  that  with  Michel- 
angelo he  was  out  of  date  and  did  not  comprehend 
the  real  meaning  of  art — very  similar  conclusions 
with  which  the  modem  impressionist  movement  was 
heralded.'^  The  discovery  was  made  in  Rome,  but 
the  news  sxpanded  to  Florence  and  Naples,  and 
Venice,  and  behold  the  result — Sprezzatura,  or  to 
use  the  modern  word.  Impressionism,  that  is  to  say, 
the  substitution  of  sketches  for  finished  pictures, 


Introduction  33 

though  this  is  not  the  definition  usually  given  to  it. 
But  fortunately  for  the  art  of  the  time  the  innova- 
tion was  chiefly  confined  to  coteries.  All  that  could 
be  said  or  done  failed  to  convince  the  principal 
patrons  of  the  period  that  a  half  finished  work  is 
so  beautiful  as  a  completed  one,  and  so  the  novelties 
rarely  found  entrance  into  great  collections,  nor  were 
they  used  to  adorn  the  interiors  of  public  buildings. 
But  a  good  many  of  them  were  executed  though 
they  have  long  ceased  to  interest  anybody.  Now 
and  again  one  comes  across  an  example  in  a  sleepy 
Italian  village,  or  in  the  smaller  shops  of  Rome  or 
Florence,  but  it  is  quickly  put  aside  as  a  melancholy 
memento  of  a  disordered  period  of  art  when  talented 
painters  had  to  struggle  for  fame,  and  the  untalented 
for  bread. 

The  cult  of  Sprezzatura  faded  to  a  glimmer  before 
the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Bernini  was 
dead,  and  Carlo  Maratta  with  a  few  others  led  the 
way  in  re-establishing  the  health  if  not  the  brilliancy 
and  renown  of  Italian  art.  Nor  did  a  recurrence  of 
the  movement  occur  in  the  next  century.  During 
this  period  there  was  comparatively  little  call  for 
art  in  Italy,  and  at  the  end  of  it,  when  political 
disturbances  made  havoc  with  academies  and  artists, 
the  principal  occupation  of  Italian  painters  with 
talent  was  precisely  that  of  their  skilled  brethren  in 
Holland  and  Flanders — the  manufacture  of  "old" 
masterpieces.  It  was  reserved  for  the  second  half 
of  the  nineteenth  century  for  Sprezzatura  to  make 
its  reappearance,  and  this  time  Italy  followed  the 
lead  of  France. 


34  Art  Principles 

There  are  many  methods  and  mannerisms  which 
go  under  the  name  of  Impressionism,  but  they  are 
mostly  suggestions  in  design  or  experiments  in  tones 
which  were  formeriy  produced  solely  as  studies  to 
assist  artists  in  executing  their  complete  works,  or 
else  eccentricities  which  are  obviously  mere  camou- 
flage for  lack  of  skill/*  Sometimes  the  sketches 
are  slightly  amplified  with  more  or  less  finished  signs, 
and  now  and  then  novelties  are  present  in  the  shape 
of  startling  colour  effects;  but  in  all  cases  the 
impartial  observer  sees  in  the  pictures  only  sensorial 
beauty  of  a  kind  which  is  inevitably  short  lived, 
while  his  understanding  is  oppressed  with  the  thought, 
firstly  that  the  picture  is  probably  the  result  of  a 
want  of  diligence  on  the  part  of  the  artist,  and 
secondly  that  its  exhibition  as  a  serious  work  is 
somewhat  of  a  reflection  upon  the  intelligence  of  the 
public. 

Obviously  the  fundamental  basis  of  Impression- 
ism is  weak  and  illogical,  for  in  our  conception  of 
nature  it  invites  us  to  eliminate  the  understanding. 
What  the  impressionist  practically  says  is:  "We 
do  not  see  solid  form;  we  see  only  flat  surface  in 
which  objects  are  distinguished  by  colours.  The 
artist  should  reproduce  these  colours  irrespective 
of  the  nature  of  the  objects."  But  the  objects  are 
distinguished  by  our  knowledge  and  experience, 
and  if  we  are  to  eliminate  these  in  one  art,  why  not 
in  another?  Why  trouble  about  carving  in  the 
round  when  we  only  actually  see  in  the  human  figure 
a  flat  surface  defined  by  colour?  There  is  no  scene 
in  nature  such  as  the  impressionist  paints,  nor  can 


Introduction  35 

such  a  scene  be  thrown  upon  the  mind  of  the  painter 
as  a  natural  scene.  Except  in  absolute  deserts  there 
are  no  scenes  without  many  signs  which  are  clearly- 
defined  to  the  eye,  and  which  the  artist  can  paint. 
He  cannot  of  course  produce  all  the  signs  in  a  view, 
but  he  can  indicate  sufficient  of  them  to  make  a 
beautiful  picture  apart  from  the  tones,  and  there 
can  be  no  valid  aesthetic  reason  for  substituting  for 
these  signs  vague  suggestions  of  colour  infinitely 
less  definite  than  the  signs  as  they  appear  in  nature. 
Nor  is  there  any  such  atmosphere  in  nature  as  the 
impressionist  usually  paints.  We  do  not  see  blotched 
outlines  of  human  figures,  but  the  outlines  in  nature, 
except  at  a  considerable  distance,  appear  to  us  clear 
and  decisive  though  delicately  shaded,  and  not  as 
seen  through  a  veil  of  steam.  Nor  has  any  valid 
reason  been  advanced  for  juxtaposing  pure  colours 
instead  of  blending  them  before  use. '  ^  Why  should 
the  eye  have  to  seek  a  particular  distance  from  a 
painting  in  order  that  the  colours  might  naturally 
blend,  when  the  artist  can  himself  blend  them  and 
present  a  harmony  which  is  observable  at  any  rea- 
sonable distance?  We  do  not  carve  a  statue  with 
blurred  and  broken  edges,  and  then  tell  the  observer 
that  the  outlines  will  appear  correct  if  he  travel  a 
certain  distance  away  before  examining  them. 

In  giving  nearly  his  whole  attention  to  colour  the 
impressionist  limits  his  art  to  the  feeblest  form,  and 
produces  a  quickly  tiring,  ephemeral  thing,  as  if 
unconscious  of  natural  beauty.  Sylvan  glades  and 
fairy  dales,  where  the  brooks  ripple  pleasantly  as 
they  moisten  the  roots  of  the  violet,  and  gently  lave 


36  Art  Principles 

the  feet  of  the  lark  and  the  robin;  where  shady 
trees  bow  welcome  to  the  wanderer;  where  the 
grassy  carpet  is  sprinkled  with  flowers,  and  every 
bush  can  tell  of  lovers'  sighs!  Does  the  impression- 
ist see  these  things  ?  Offer  him  the  sweetest  beauties 
of  nature,  and  he  shows  you  in  return  a  shake  of  a 
kaleidoscope.  Mountain  peaks  towering  one  above 
the  other  till  their  snowy  crests  sparkle  the  azure 
sky;  mighty  rivers  dividing  the  hills,  crumbHng  the 
granite  cliffs,  or  thundering  their  course  over  imped- 
ing rocks;  cascades  of  flowing  crystal  falling  into 
seething  seas  of  foam  and  mist;  the  angry  ocean 
convulsively  defying  human  power  with  its  heaving 
walls  and  fearsome  caverns !  Nature  in  her  grandest 
form :  sublime  forces  which  kindle  the  spirit  of  man : 
exhibit  them  to  the  impressionist,  and  he  presents 
to  you  a  flat  experiment  in  the  juxtaposition  of  pure 
colours !  And  the  majesty  of  the  human  form,  with 
its  glorious  attributes;  the  noble  woman  and  cour- 
ageous man ;  incidents  of  self-sacrifice ;  the  realms  of 
spiritual  beauty,  and  the  great  ideals  which  expand 
the  mind  to  the  bounds  of  space  and  lift  the  soul  to 
Heaven!  What  of  these?  Ask  the  impressionist, 
and  he  knows  nothing  of  them.  For  his  pencil  they 
are  but  relics  of  the  past,  like  the  bones  of  the  men 
who  immortalized  them  in  art. 

This  is  perhaps  an  overstatement  of  impression- 
ism as  applied  to  the  works  of  a  large  number  of 
artists,  who  although  commonly  sacrificing  form  to 
colour,  infuse  more  or  less  interest  in  the  human  poses 
and  actions  which  are  nominally  the  subjects  of 
their  pictures.    But  one  can  only  deal  generally  with 


Introduction  37 

such  a  matter.  The  evil  of  Impressionism  does  not 
lie  in  the  presentation  of  colour  harmonies  as  beau- 
tiful things,  for  they  are  unquestionably  pleasing, 
though  the  beauty  is  purely  sensorial  and  of  an 
ephemeral  character.  The  mischief  arises  from  the 
declaration,  overt  or  implied,  that  these  harmonies 
represent  the  higher  reaches  of  the  painter's  art, 
and  that  form  or  design  therein  is  of  secondary 
importance.  Let  something  false  in  thought  or 
activity  be  propagated  in  any  domain  where  the 
trader  can  make  use  of  it,  then  surely  will  the  evil 
grow,  each  new  weed  being  more  rank  than  its  pre- 
decessor. Impressionism  is  not  a  spurious  form  of 
art,  but  seeing  that  its  spurious  claims  were  widely 
accepted,  with  substantial  results,  there  soon  ap- 
peared innumerable  other  forms  inferior  to  it.  There 
is  no  necessity  to  deal  here  with  these  forms,  with 
the  crude  experiments  of  Cezanne,  the  vagaries  of 
Van  Gogh, '  ^  the  puerilities  of  Matisse,  or  the  awful 
sequence  of  "isms,"  commencing  with  "Post-Im- 
pressionism," and  ending  in  the  lowest  depths  of 
art  degradation;  but  it  is  proper  to  point  out  that 
so  long  as  Impressionism  puts  forward  its  extrava- 
gant pretensions,  these  corrupt  forms  will  continue 
to  taint  the  realm  of  art  to  the  detriment  of  both 
artists  and  public. 

The  significance  of  Impressionism  is  alleged  by 
its  advocates  to  be  of  such  considerable  import  that 
in  the  public  interest  they  should  have  brought 
forward  the  most  cogent  arguments  for  its  support. 
But  we  have  no  such  arguments,  nor  has  any  logical 
reason  been  advanced  to  offset  the  obvious  practical 


38  Art  Principles 

defects  of  the  innovation,  namely,  that  in  the  general 
opinion  the  art  is  incomplete  and  decidedly  inferior, 
and  that  the  leading  critics  of  every  country  have 
ignored  or  directly  condemned  it  as  an  immature 
form  of  art.  Nevertheless,  although  there  has 
been  no  determined  attempt  to  upset  the  basis  of 
art  criticism  as  this  basis  has  been  understood  for 
more  than  twenty  centuries;  although  the  whole  of 
the  arguments  in  support  of  the  various  forms  of 
Impressionism  have  failed  to  indicate  any  compre- 
hensible basis  at  all,  but  have  dealt  entirely  with 
vague  sensorial  theories,  and  psychological  sugges- 
tions which  have  no  general  meaning;  although  it 
has  never  been  remotely  advanced  that  the  beauty 
produced  by  means  of  Impressionism  is  connected 
with  intellectual  activity,  as  any  high  form  of  art 
must  necessarily  be:  notwithstanding  all  this,  there 
has  been  gradually  growing  up  in  the  public  mind, 
a  vague  and  uncertain  signification  of  the  compara- 
tive forms  of  art,  which  tends  to  the  general  confu- 
sion of  thought  amongst  the  public,  and  a  chaos  of 
ideas  in  the  minds  of  young  artists. 

The  root  of  these  spreading  branches  of  mysticism 
is  to  be  found  in  the  insistent  affirmation  that  the 
broad  manner  of  painting  is  necessary  for  the  pro- 
duction of  great  work,  and  that  only  those  old  masters 
who  used  this  manner  are  worthy  of  study.  It  is, 
as  if  the  advocates  of  the  new  departure  declare, 
"If  we  cannot  demonstrate  the  superiority  of  our 
work,  we  can  at  least  affirm  that  our  methods  are 
the  best."  Where  a  small  minority  is  persistent  in 
advocating  certain  views,   and  the  great  majority 


Introduction  39 

do  not  trouble  about  replying  thereto,  false  principles 
are  likely  to  find  considerable  area  for  permeation 
among  the  rising  generation,  who  are  easily  impressed 
with  the  appearance  of  undisputed  authority.  In 
the  matter  we  are  discussing,  the  limited  authority 
is  particulariy  likely  to  be  recognized  by  the  inex- 
perienced of  those  mostly  concerned,  that  is  to  say, 
young  artists,  because  it  sanctions  a  method  of  work 
which  reduces  to  a  minimum  the  labour  involved 
in  arriving  at  excellence  by  the  regular  channels. 

Now  the  artist  is  at  liberty  to  use  any  method  of 
painting  in  producing  his  picture  providing  he  pre- 
sents something  beautiful.  There  is  no  special  vir- 
tue in  a  broad  manner,  a  fine  manner,  or  any  other 
manner,  and  the  public,  for  whom  the  artist  toils,  is 
not  concerned  with  the  point.  It  is  as  indifferent 
to  the  kind  of  brushwork  used  by  the  painter,  as  to 
the  variety  of  chisel  handled  by  the  sculptor.  The 
observer  of  the  picture  judges  it  for  its  beauty,  and 
if  it  be  well  painted,  then  the  character  of  the  brush- 
work  is  unconsidered.  If,  however,  the  brushwork 
is  so  broad  that  the  manner  of  painting  protrudes 
itself  upon  the  observer  at  first  sight,  then  the  work 
cannot  be  of  a  high  class.  All  the  paintings  which 
we  recognize  as  great  works  of  art  are  pictured  upon 
the  brain  as  complete  things  immediately  they  are 
brought  within  the  compass  of  the  eye,  and  to  this 
rule  there  is  no  exception.  If,  when  encompassed 
by  the  sight  we  find  that  a  picture  is  so  broadly 
painted  that  we  must  move  backwards  to  an  unknown 
point  before  the  character  of  the  work  can  be  thor- 
oughly comprehended  as  a  complete  whole,  then  it 


40  Art  Principles 

is  distinctly  inferior  as  a  work  of  art,  because,  being 
incomprehensible  on  first  inspection,  it  is  necessarily 
unbeautiful,  and  the  act  of  converting  it  into  a  thing 
of  beauty,  by  means  of  a  mechanical  operation, 
complicates  the  picture  on  the  brain  and  so  weakens 
its  aesthetic  value.  ^^  This  is  axiomatic.  There 
are  proportions  and  propriety  in  all  the  arts,  and 
the  good  artist  is  quite  aware  of  the  lines  to  be 
drawn  in  respect  of  the  manner  he  adopts.  Jan 
Van  Eyck's  picture  of  Arnolfini  and  his  Wife, 
and  Holbein's  Ambassadors,  both  painted  in  the 
fine  manner,  are  equally  great  works  of  art  with 
Titian's  portraits;  and  Raphael's  portrait  of  Julius 
11.  (the  Pitti  Palace  example),  '^ which  is  in  a  man- 
ner midway  between  that  of  Holbein  and  Titian,  is 
superior  to  the  work  of  all  other  portrait  artists. 

But  the  most  remarkable  outcome  of  the  spread 
of  Impressionism  is  not  the  extravagant  use  of  the 
broad  manner,  for  vagaries  of  this  sort  will  always 
find  support  among  immature  minds  and  undiligent 
hands,  but  the  establishment  of  a  species  of  cult 
connected  with  certain  old  masters  who  are  not  in 
the  very  first  rank,  and  the  attempted  relegation  to 
the  background  of  public  opinion,  of  the  few  sublime 
painters  whose  colossal  genius  and  superiority  are 
recognized  by  well  balanced  minds  wherever  the 
breath  of  man  can  open  the  door  of  his  soul.  It  is 
unnecessary  to  enter  upon  a  long  enquiry  as  to  the 
validity  of  these  proceedings,  but  the  new  position 
in  which  two  great  masters  have  been  placed  can 
scarcely  be  ignored.  These  masters  are  Rembrandt 
and  Velasquez,  who  appear  to  have  been  set  upon 


Introduction  41 

the  loftiest  of  pedestals  in  order  that  some  of  their 
glory  may  be  shed  upon  the  new  varieties  of  Sprezza- 
tura.  It  has  been  frequently  said  that  these  masters 
were  the  first  of  impressionists,  but  the  connection 
between  their  work  and  Impressionism  is  hard  to 
find.''  Not  only  is  Rembrandt  entirely  distinct 
in  his  manner  from  Velasquez;  not  only  were  they 
both  portrait  painters  primarily,  while  the  great 
bulk  of  impressionist  work  is  landscape;  but  their 
aims,  their  ideas,  and  the  whole  of  their  works  are 
as  far  removed  from  the  new  school  as  the  poles  are 
asunder.  The  work  of  the  two  great  painters  deals 
almost  entirely  with  expression,  that  of  the  impres- 
sionists with  colour  harmonies.  In  the  one  case 
intellectual  beauty  is  sought  to  accompany  the 
sensorial,  in  the  other  the  production  of  beauty 
which  is  not  purely  or  almost  entirely  sensorial,  is 
not  even  pretended.  While  these  differences  are 
obvious,  and  while  no  man  of  ordinary  intelligence  is 
likely  to  be  confused  in  his  mind  in  respect  of  them, 
the  fact  remains  that  the  movement,  which  was 
bom  with  Impressionism  some  forty  years  ago,  to 
raise  Rembrandt  and  Velasquez  to  an  elevation  in 
art  to  which  they  are  not  entitled,  has  met  with 
much  success  amongst  that  considerable  section  of 
the  community  which  is  interested  in  art  and  appre- 
ciates its  value,  but  suffers  from  the  delusion  that 
special  knowledge,  which  it  has  not  acquired,  is 
necessary  for  the  recognition  of  high  aesthetic  merit. 
No  definite  propositions  have  been  laid  down  in 
support  of  the  movement:  there  has  been  no  line 
of  reasoning  for  the  critic  to  handle,  nor  have  the 


42  Art  Principles 

old  standards  been  upset  in  the  slightest  degree: 
the  position  has  been  brought  about  chiefly  by  a 
continuous  reiteration  of  vague  assertions  and 
mystic  declarations,  and  by  the  glamour  arising 
from  the  enormous  prices  paid  by  collectors  for  the 
works  of  the  masters  named,  consequent  upon  the 
skilful  commercial  exploitation  of  this  exaggerated 
approbation. 

Portraiture  is  necessarily  on  a  lower  scale  of  art 
than  historical  painting  (using  this  term  in  its 
higher  application),  firstly  because  ideals  are  not 
possible  therein,  and  secondly  in  that  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  artist  is  very  restricted.  The  greatest 
portrait  ever  painted  is  immeasurably  below  a  pic- 
ture where  a  beautiful  ideal  form,  with  ideal  expres- 
sion is  depicted;  as  far  below  in  fact  as  the  best 
ancient  sculptured  busts  were  inferior  to  the  gods 
of  Praxiteles.  Neither  Rembrandt  nor  Velasquez 
was  capable  of  idealization  of  form,  and  so  neither 
left  behind  him  a  single  painted  figure  to  take  its 
place  as  a  type.  Rembrandt  was  a  master  of  human 
expression,  and  in  the  representation  of  character 
he  was  perhaps  unsurpassed  by  any  painter,  but  if 
we  analyze  the  feeling  that  is  at  the  bottom  of  the 
appreciation  of  his  portraits,  we  find  that  it  largely 
consists  of  something  apart  from  admiration  of  them 
as  things  of  beauty.  There  enters  into  considera- 
tion recognition  of  the  extraordinary  genius  of  the 
artist  in  presenting  character  in  such  a  way  that 
the  want  of  corporeal  beauty  seems  to  be  unfelt. 
Instead  of  observing  that  the  expression  in  a  coun- 
tenance harmonizes  with  the  features,  we  involun- 


PLATE    A 


Venus  Anadyomene 
{Sculpture  after  the  paintiiig  of  Apelles) 


(See  page  113) 


PLATE    5 


Venus  Anadyomene 
( The  painting  of  Titian) 


(See  page  iis) 


Introduction  43 

tarily  notice  that  the  features  harmonize  perfectly 
with  the  expression,  which  seems  in  itself  to  be  the 
picture.  Of  course  inasmuch  as  the  expression 
invariably  appeals  to  the  good  side  of  our  nature, 
it  means  intellectual  beauty,  but  as  the  depth  of 
any  impression  of  this  kind  of  beauty  depends  upon 
the  development  of  the  mind,  the  admiration  must, 
except  where  the  artist  presents  corporeal  beauty, 
be  confined  generally  to  the  cultivated  section  of 
the  community.  From  the  point  of  view  of  pure 
art,  his  fame  as  a  great  painter  can  only  rest  upon 
those  of  his  pictures  which  are  also  appreciated  for 
the  corporeal  beauty  exhibited. 

The  extraordinary  power  of  Velasquez  lay  in  the 
sure  freedom  of  his  execution,  and  in  this  he  was  equal 
to  Titian.  He  was  besides  a  master  of  balance,  and 
so  every  portrait  he  painted  is  one  complete  whole, 
and  has  exactly  the  effect  that  a  portrait  should 
have — to  direct  the  mind  of  the  observer  to  the 
subject,  and  away  altogether  from  the  painter. 
But  these  high  qualities  as  portrait  painters  do  not 
place  Rembrandt  and  Velasquez  on  a  level  with 
Raphael,  and  Michelangelo,  and  Correggio.  What- 
ever the  individual  opinion,  it  is  impossible  to  move 
aside  from  the  long  path  of  experience  and  the  laws 
dependent  upon  natural  functions,  and  so  long  as 
the  world  lasts,  a  work  of  ideal  beauty,  whether  it 
be  a  Madonna  by  Raphael,  a  Prophet  by  Michelan- 
gelo, or  a  symbolical  figure  by  Fragonard,  will  live 
in  general  estimation,  which  is  the  only  test  of  high 
beauty,  far  above  portraits  from  life  and  scenes  of 
every  day  labour,  however  they  may  be  painted. 


44  Art  Principles 

The  beauty  of  the  one  is  eternal  and  exalting;  and 
of  the  other,  sympathetic  and  more  or  less  passive. 
The  appreciation  of  Raphael  and  Michelangelo  is 
universal,  spontaneous,  emphatic;  of  Rembrandt 
and  Velasquez,  sometimes  imperative,  but  usually 
deliberative  and  cultivated.  In  fact  it  is  only 
amongst  a  section  of  cultivated  people,  that  is  to 
say,  a  small  percentage  of  the  community,  that  Rem- 
brandt and  Velasquez  are  given  a  status  which  is  not, 
and  cannot  be,  accorded  them  if  we  adhere  to  the 
natural  and  time-honoured  standards  of  judgment 
accepted  by  the  first  artists  and  philosophers  known 
to  the  world  since  art  emerged  from  the  prehistoric 
shade.  To  place  these  artists  above,  or  on  a  level 
with,  the  Italian  artists  named,  is  to  cast  from  their 
pedestals  Homer,  Phidias,  Praxiteles,  Apelles,  Shake- 
speare, Dante,  and  every  other  admittedly  sublime 
genius  in  art  of  whom  we  have  record. 

Another  baneful  result  of  Impressionism  is  the 
attempt  to  raise  landscape  to  a  higher  level  in  art 
than  that  to  which  it  is  properly  entitled.  This  is 
perhaps  a  natural  consequence  of  the  elevation  of 
colour  at  the  expense  of  form,  for  the  movement  is 
based  upon  new  methods  of  colouring,  and  the 
significance  of  colour  is  vastly  greater  in  landscape 
than  in  any  other  branch  of  art.  Elsewhere  the 
disabilities  of  the  landscape  painter  are  pointed  out, 
and  it  will  be  seen  that  fixed  and  unalterable  restric- 
tions compel  an  extreme  limitation  to  his  work.  It 
is  because  of  these  restrictions  that  the  very  great- 
est artists  have  refrained  from  paying  close  attention 
to  this  branch  of  art  as  a  separate  department. 


Introduction  45 

From  indirect  records  we  may  presume  that 
landscape  painting  was  well  understood  in  the  days 
of  ancient  Greece,  but  there  is  no  evidence  that  it 
then  formed  a  separate  branch  of  art.  In  Roman 
times  according  to  Pliny,  landscape  was  used  for 
mural  decoration.  Of  its  character  we  can  only 
judge  from  the  examples  exposed  during  the  excava- 
tions at  Pompeii  and  Herculaneum,  which  indicate 
that  the  pictures  had  but  a  topographical  interest, 
or  formed  settings  for  the  representation  of  industrial 
pursuits  or  classical  adventures.  Certainly  there 
is  no  instance  in  Greek  or  Roman  art  recorded  or 
exhibited,  of  any  landscape  as  we  understand  it, 
that  is,  a  work  built  up  as  a  beautiful  representation 
of  nature,  to  be  instantly  recognized  by  the  observer 
as  a  complete  whole,  as  one  sign  in  fact.  The  artists 
of  the  Italian  Renaissance  did  not  paint  landscapes 
as  separate  pictures  unless  by  way  of  study  or  experi- 
ment. They  evidently  considered  landscape  signs 
purely  as  accessories,  and  composed  their  natural 
views  with  special  reference  to  figure  designs.  Some 
of  them,  particularly  the  leaders  of  the  Venetian 
School,  occasionally  painted  pictures  in  which  land- 
scape appears  to  play  an  important  part,  but  in 
these  cases  the  landscape  is  really  subsidiary,  though 
essential  to  the  design;  and  the  works  cannot  be 
compared  in  any  way  with  those  of  Claude  and  others 
who  often  added  figures  to  their  landscapes  in  order 
to  comply  with  the  wishes  of  their  patrons.  The 
fifteenth  century  Flemish  artists  also  dealt  with 
landscape  purely  as  background,  and  so  with  Martin 
Schongauer,  Diirer,  and  other  early  German  paint- 


46  Art  Principles 

ers.  But  all  the  great  painters  down  to  the  decline 
of  the  Renaissance,  closely  studied  landscape,  as  is 
evidenced  by  the  numerous  sketches  still  existing, 
and  the  finished  pictures  remaining  clearly  indicate 
that  by  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century  artists 
had  little  or  nothing  to  learn  in  landscape  art,  save 
the  management  of  complex  aerial  perspective. 

Since  landscape  painting  was  introduced  as  a 
separate  art  towards  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, it  has  only  commanded  general  attention  when 
the  higher  art  of  the  painter  has  appeared  to  decline. 
In  Flanders  the  spurt  in  landscape  due  to  Paul  Bril 
was  terminated  with  the  last  of  the  Breughels  by 
the  overpowering  splendour  of  Rubens  in  historical 
work,  and  the  attempts  of  even  Rubens  himself  to 
create  a  greater  interest  in  landscape  signally  failed. 
There  were  some  good  landscape  painters  in  Hol- 
land during  the  flourishing  period  of  the  Dutch 
school,  but  it  was  only  when  Rembrandt,  Dow, 
Terburg,  and  the  rest  of  the  bright  constellation  of 
figure  painters  had  passed  their  zenith,  or  were 
resting  in  quiet  graves,  that  landscape  painting 
became  in  any  way  general.  Then  it  was  that 
Hobbema,  Jacob  Ruysdael,  and  their  numerous 
followers,  with  coast  painters  like  Van  der  Cappelle, 
and  sea  painters  as  William  van  de  Velde,  turned 
out  the  many  fine  works  which  are  now  so  highly 
prized. 

The  Italians  of  the  seventeenth  century  were  too 
close  to  Raphael,  and  Michelangelo,  and  Titian, 
to  permit  of  a  landscape  being  generally  received  as 
a  great  work  of  art,  but  there  appeared  at  this  time 


Introduction  47 

in  Rome  numerous  foreigners  from  France,  and 
Flanders,  and  Holland,  who  were  devoted  to  land- 
scape, and  amongst  them  the  greatest  genius  known 
in  the  art — Claude  Lorraine.  He  was  the  first  to 
put  the  sun  in  the  sky  on  canvas  for  the  purpose  of 
pure  landscape;  the  first  to  master  thoroughly  the 
intricate  difficulties  of  aerial  perspective;  the  first 
to  adorn  the  earth  with  fairy  castles  and  dreamy 
visions  of  nature,  such  as  we  might  suppose  to  have 
been  common  in  the  days  of  the  Golden  Age,  ere 
yet  men  fought  for  power,  or  toiled  from  mom  to 
eve  for  daily  bread.  With  his  magic  wand  he 
skimmed  the  cream  of  natural  beauty  and  spread 
it  over  the  Roman  Campagna,  transforming  this 
historic  ground  into  a  region  of  palaces,  terraces, 
cascades,  and  glorious  foliage.  At  the  same  time 
Nicholas  Poussin  was  also  using  the  Campagna  for 
the  landscape  settings  of  his  classical  compositions 
— such  perfect  settings  that  it  is  impossible  to  imag- 
ine the  figures  separated  from  their  surroundings. 
These  two  artists  with  their  disciples,  and  many 
Flemish  and  Dutch  painters  headed  by  Berghem 
and  the  two  Boths,  formed  a  landscape  colony  of 
considerable  importance,  but  no  Italian  landscape 
school  was  founded  from  it.  In  the  next  century 
there  was  little  pure  landscape  in  Italy.  Some  fine 
works  of  topographical,  and  a  few  of  general  interest 
were  produced  by  Canaletto  and  his  followers,  and 
a  kind  of  landscape  school  was  maintained  in  Venice 
for  half  a  century  or  more,  but  elsewhere  in  Italy 
the  cultivation  of  landscape  was  spasmodic  and 
feeble. 


48  Art  Principles 

In  England  and  France,  landscape  as  a  separate 
art  has  only  made  considerable  headway  quite  re- 
cently, though  there  have  been  local  schools,  as  the 
Norwich  and  Barbizon,  which  followed  particular 
methods  in  design.  Meanwhile  England  produced 
some  isolated  giants  in  landscape,  as  Wilson,  Gains- 
borough, Turner,  and  Constable,  Turner  standing 
out  as  the  greatest  painter  of  strong  sun  effects  on 
record.  It  will  be  seen  that  until  the  last  generation 
or  so,  in  no  country  has  landscape  been  admitted  to 
high  rank  as  a  separate  art,  universal  opinion  very 
properly  recognizing  that  the  highest  beauty  in  the 
handiwork  of  man  is  to  be  found  in  the  representa- 
tion of  the  human  figure.  Profound  efforts  of  the 
imagination  are  not  required  in  landscape,  for  it 
consists  of  a  particular  arrangement  of  inanimate 
signs  which  have  no  direct  influence  upon  the  mind, 
and  cannot  appeal  to  the  higher  faculties.  There 
is  no  scope  therein  for  lofty  conceptions,  and  con- 
sequently the  sensorial  beauty  exhibited  must  be 
very  high  to  have  more  than  a  quickly  passing 
effect  upon  the  observer.  This  high  beauty  is  most 
difficult  to  obtain,  and  can  only  be  reached  by  those 
who  have  a  supreme  knowledge  of  the  technique  of 
their  art ;  who  have  made  ,a  long  and  close  study 
of  natural  signs  and  effects;  and  who  are  possessed 
of  uncommon  patience  and  industry.  We  need  not 
be  surprised  that  scarcely  one  out  of  every  hundred 
landscape  painters  executes  a  work  which  lasts  a 
generation,  and  not  one  out  of  a  thousand  secures  a 
permanent  place  on  the  roll  of  art.  The  man  who 
does  not  give  his  life  from  his  youth  up,  to  his  work. 


Introduction  49 

concentrating  his  whole  energy  upon  it,  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  everything  else,  will  paint  only  inferior  land- 
scapes. The  four  greatest  landscape  painters  known 
to  us  are  Claude  and  Turner  in  distance  work, 
and  Hobbema  and  Jacob  Ruysdael  in  near-ground. 
Claude  was  labouring  for  twenty-five  years  before 
he  succeeded  in  accomplishing  a  single  example  of 
those  lovely  fairy  abodes  so  forcibly  described  by 
Goethe  as  "absolute  truth  without  a  sign  of  reality." 
Turner  took  more  than  twenty  years  to  master  the 
secrets  of  Claude;  Jacob  Ruysdael  spent  a  quarter 
of  a  century  in  working  out  to  perfection  the  repre- 
sentation of  flowing  water,  and  Hobbema  passed 
through  more  than  half  of  his  long  life  before  arriv- 
ing at  his  superlative  scheme  of  increasing  his  avail- 
able distance  by  throwing  in  a  powerful  sunlight 
from  the  back  of  his  trees.  And  a  long  list  of  land- 
scape painters  of  lesser  lustre  might  be  given,  who 
went  through  from  fifteen  to  thirty  years  of  pains- 
taking labour  before  executing  a  single  first-class 
picture. 

Great  landscapes  of  the  pure  variety  are  of  two 
kinds,  and  two  kinds  only.  The  highest  are  those 
where  an  illusion  of  opening  distance  or  other  move- 
ment is  provided,  and  the  second  class  are  where 
natural  scenes  of  common  experience,  under  com- 
mon conditions  of  atmosphere,  are  faithfully  repro- 
duced. The  lighter  landscapes  representing  phases, 
as  the  sketches  of  the  Barbizon  school,  ^^  with  the 
moonlight  scenes,  and  the  thousand  and  one  senti- 
mental colour  harmonies  unconcerned  with  human 
motives,  which  are  turned  out  with  such  painful 


50  Art  Principles 

regularity  every  month,  serve  their  purpose  as  wall 
decorations  of  the  moment,  but  then  die  and  fade 
from  memory  like  so  many  of  the  unfortunate  artists 
who  drag  their  weary  way  to  the  grave  in  the  vain 
struggle  for  fame  by  means  of  them. 

No  landscape  of  the  phase  class  can  be  anything 
more  than  a  simple  harmony  of  tone  and  design, 
more  ephemeral  than  the  natural  phase  itself.  The 
quiet  harmony  is  restful  for  the  fatigued  eye,  and 
every  eye  is  fatigued  every  day;  and  because  the 
eye  feels  relieved  in  glancing  at  the  picture,  the 
conclusion  arises  to  the  unthinking  that  it  must  be 
a  great  work  of  art.  Glowing  eulogies  were  pro- 
nounced upon  Whistler's  Nocturne,  in  the  Metro- 
politan Museum  of  New  York,  when  it  was  first 
placed  there,  but  is  there  anything  less  like  a  work 
of  beauty  than  the  dark  meaningless  patch  as  it  is 
now  seen?  And  the  same  thing  has  happened  with 
a  thousand  other  landscapes  of  the  kind — first 
presented  to  the  tired  eyes  of  business  and  profes- 
sional men,  and  then  placed  in  collections  to  be 
surrounded  by  permanently  beautiful  works.  All 
these  phase  pictures  must  quickly  lose  their  beauty 
in  accordance  with  natural  laws  which  cannot  be 
varied.  Let  it  not  be  supposed  that  the  writer 
means  to  suggest  that  these  simple  works  should 
not  be  executed.  They  are  surely  better  than  no 
decoration  at  all  in  the  many  homes  for  which  really 
fine  pictures  are  unavailable,  but  it  is  entirely  wrong 
to  endeavour  to  pervert  the  public  judgment  by 
putting  them  forward  as  works  of  high  art. 

And  what  of  the  struggling  artists?     Look  around 


Introduction  51 

in  every  city  and  see  the  numbers  of  bright  young 
men  and  women  wearing  away  the  bloom  of  their 
youth  in  vain  endeavours  to  cHmb  the  heights  of 
art  by  the  easy  track  of  glowing  colours !  It  is  the 
call  of  Fame  they  think,  that  leads  them  along,  for 
they  know  not  the  voice  of  the  siren,  and  see  not 
the  gaping  precipice  which  is  to  shatter  their  dreams. 
There  is  but  one  sure  path  to  the  top  of  the  mountain, 
but  it  is  drab-coloured,  and  many  are  the  slippery 
crags.  Few  of  the  strongest  spirits  can  climb  it, 
but  all  may  try,  and  at  least  they  may  direct  their 
minds  upwards,  and  keep  ever  in  front  of  them  a 
vision  of  the  great  idealists  wandering  over  the 
summit  through  the  eternal  glow  of  the  fires  they 
lit  ere  death  consecrated  their  glory. 


BOOK   I 
CHAPTER  I 

CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  FINE  ARTS 

The  arts  imitative  of  nature — The  arts  classified  according  to  the 
character  of  their  signs — Poetry  not  a  compound  art,  prima- 
rily— The  extent  to  which  the  arts  may  improve  upon  nature. 

Since  art  uses  natural  signs  for  the  purpose  of 
representing  nature,  it  is  necessarily  mimetic  in 
character.^' 

Poetry  represents  all  that  the  other  arts  imitate, 
and  in  addition,  presumed  divine  actions.  Specially 
it  imitates  human  and  presumed  spiritual  actions, 
with  form  and  expression;  expression  directly,  form 
indirectly. 

Sculpture  imitates  human  and  presumed  spiritual 
form  and  expression;  form  directly,  expression  in- 
directly. It  also  represents  animal  forms,  and  modi- 
fications of  natural  forms  in  ornament. 

Painting  imitates  natural  forms  and  products,  and 
specially  human  form  and  expression ;  form  directly, 
expression  indirectly. 

Fiction  imitates  human  actions,  and  form  and 
expression ;  expression  directly,  form  indirectly. 

52 


Classification  of  the  Fine  Arts       53 

Music  imitates  natural  sounds  and  combines  them 
and  specially  represents  human  emotional  effects. 

Architecture  is  the  least  imitative  of  the  arts,  its 
freedom  in  the  representation  of  nature  being  re- 
stricted by  the  necessity  of  serving  the  end  of  utility. 
It  combines  geometrical  forms,  and  in  the  positions 
and  proportions  of  these,  is  compelled  to  represent 
what  we  understand  from  experience  of  nature  as 
natural  balance. 

The  poet  may  give  to  a  character  sublime  attri- 
butes far  above  experience,  or  expand  form  as  Homer 
raises  the  stature  of  Strife  to  the  heavens,  but  he 
cannot  provide  attributes  beyond  experience  in  kind, 
or  any  part  of  a  form  outside  of  nature.  He  may 
combine  or  rearrange,  and  enlarge  or  diminish  as  he 
will,  and  so  may  the  painter,  the  sculptor,  or  musi- 
cian, but  he  is  powerless  to  create  signs  unknown  to 
nature.  It  follows  then,  that  he  who  imitates  nature 
in  the  most  beautiful  way,  that  is  to  say,  he  who 
combines  the  signs  of  nature  to  form  the  most  beau- 
tiful whole,  produces  the  greatest  work  of  art. 

It  would  appear  that  upon  the  character  of  their 
principal  signs  is  dependent  the  relative  position  of 
the  arts  in  respect  of  the  recognition  of  beauty 
therein.  Of  the  six  fine  arts,  namely,  Poetry, 
Sculpture,  Painting,  Fiction,  Music,  and  Architec- 
ture, the  first  four,  which  hereafter  in  this  work  will 
be  known  as  the  Associated  Arts,  have  for  their  prin- 
cipal sign  the  human  figure,  to  which  everything  else 
is  subordinate;  while  in  music  the  signs  consist  of 
tones,  and  in  architecture,  of  lines. 

All  the  other  arts  whose  object  is  to  give  pleasure, 


54  Art  Principles 

as  the  drama,  dancing,  etching,  are  either  modifica- 
tions of  one  of  the  fine  arts,  or  combinations  of  two 
or  more  of  them.  In  recent  times  it  has  been  held 
that  poetry  is  a  combined  art,  owing  to  the  almost 
invariable  use  of  a  simple  form  of  music  in  its  con- 
struction, but  it  would  appear  that  primarily  poetry 
is  independent  of  metrical  assistance.  This  was 
clearly  laid  down  by  Aristotle,  but  modern  defini- 
tions of  the  art  have  usually  included  some  reference 
to  metre.  ^°  Now  in  our  common  experience  two 
things  are  observable  in  respect  of  poetry.  The  first 
is,  that  when  by  way  of  admiration  or  criticism,  we 
discuss  the  works  of  those  poets  whom  all  the  world 
recognizes  as  the  greatest  known  to  us,  we  deal  only 
with  the  substance  of  what  is  said,  and  the  manner 
of  saying  it,  without  reference  to  the  metrical  form. 
In  the  second  place  we  observe  that  the  higher  the 
poetry,  the  more  simple  is  the  metrical  form  with 
which  it  is  associated.  The  great  epics,  which  neces- 
sarily take  first  rank  in  poetry,  have  only  metre,  the 
higher  musical  measures  in  which  lyrics  are  set  being 
avoided.  But  as  we  descend  in  the  scale  of  the 
art,  metrical  form  becomes  of  more  importance,  and 
when  simple  subjects  are  dealt  with,  and  a  grand 
style  is  inappropriate,  the  production  would  not  be 
called  poetry  unless  in  the  form  of  verse. 

In  epic  and  dramatic  poetry,  we  call  one  poet 
greater  than  another  because  of  his  superior  inven- 
tion and  beauty  of  expression,  let  the  measure  be 
what  it  will.  But  the  invention  comes  first,  for  only 
high  invention  can  be  clothed  with  lofty  expression. 
The  actions  of  deathless  gods  or  god-like  men ;  quali- 


> 


C^ 


Classification  of  the  Fine  Arts        55 

ties  of  goodness,  nobility,  courage,  grandeur,  so  high 
as  to  be  above  human  reach:  only  these  can  form 
the  subject  of  language  and  sentiment  soaring  into 
regions  of  the  sublime,  and  indifferent  to  metrical 
artifice.  In  the  sacred  books  of  all  great  religions  we 
may  find  the  loftiest  poetry  without  regular  form, 
and  any  prose  translation  of  the  Greek  poets  will 
provide  many  examples,"  though  often  there  is  a 
cadence — a  rise  and  fall  in  the  flow  of  words  which  is 
more  or  less  regular,  and  has  the  effect  of  emphasizing 
the  sentiment,  and  of  throwing  the  images  upon  the 
mind  with  directness  and  force.  We  must  conclude 
then  that  in  poetry,  while  metrical  form  is  generally 
essential,  it  is  not  vital  to  the  highest  flights  of  the 
poet,  and  so  strictly,  poetry  is  primarily  a  pure  and 
not  a  compound  art. 

Seeing  that  art  uses  the  signs  of  nature  of  which 
man  is  at  once  a  product  and  a  tool,  it  must  in  its 
progress  follow  the  general  course  of  nature.  In  her 
development  of  life,  nature  is  chiefly  concerned  in  the 
improvements  of  types  for  her  own  purposes,  and 
only  uses  the  individual  in  so  far  as  he  can  assist  in 
this  end,  while  the  natural  instinct  of  the  individual 
is  to  conserve  and  improve  his  type.  The  art  which 
represents  life  is  compelled  to  deal  chiefly  with  types, 
for  it  is  only  by  the  use  of  a  type  that  the  artist 
can  apply  his  imagination  to  the  production  of  high 
beauty,  to  whatever  extent  he  may  use  the  individual 
to  help  him  in  this  purpose,  and  it  is  instinctive  in  the 
human  being  to  maintain  and  improve  the  aesthetic 
attraction  of  the  species.  The  highest  art,  as  the 
highest  work  of  nature,  consists  of  the  presentation 


56  Art  Principles 

of  a  perfected  type.  The  artist  therefore  must  con- 
sider the  species  before  the  individual;  the  essential 
before  the  accidental;  the  general  before  the  par- 
ticular. 

The  living  signs  of  nature  with  which  art  deals  are 
of  two  classes.  In  the  one  sign  the  position  of  parts 
is  the  same  throughout  the  species,  and  is  fixed  and 
invariable,  as  in  fully  developed  animals ;  in  the  other 
the  position  is  irregular,  and  variable  within  limits, 
as  in  plants.  In  the  latter  case  the  position  of  parts 
may  be  commonly  varied  indefinitely  without  a  sense 
of  incongruity  arising,  as  in  a  tree,  and  hence  there 
can  be  no  conceivable  general  form  or  type  upon 
which  art  may  build  up  perfected  parts  and  propor- 
tions. In  respect  of  such  a  sign  therefore,  art  can- 
not improve,  or  appear  to  improve,  upon  nature,  by 
combining  perfected  parts  into  a  more  beautiful 
whole  than  nature  provides. 

In  the  case  of  a  fully  developed  animal,  where  the 
position  of  parts  is  fixed,  a  type  may  be  conceived 
which  is  superior  in  symmetry  and  harmony  to  any 
individual  of  the  species  produced  by  nature,  for  the 
imagination  is  restricted  to  an  unchangeable  form, 
and  has  but  to  put  together  perfected  parts  and 
proportions.  But  this  conception  can  only  be  applied 
in  art  to  human  beings,  because  in  respect  of  other 
animals,  while  no  two  are  alike,  the  members  of  each 
species,  or  each  section  of  a  species,  seem  to  be  alike, 
or  so  closely  alike  in  form  and  expression,  that  no 
perfected  type  can  be  conceived  which  will  appear 
to  be  superior  in  general  beauty  to  the  normal  in- 
dividual of  the  species,  or  section  thereof,  coming 


Classification  of  the  Fine  Arts        57 

within  actual  experience.  Thus,  the  most  perfect 
conceivable  racehorse  painted  on  canvas,  might  in 
reality  be  more  perfect  in  form  than  any  actual  race- 
horse, but  to  the  observer  of  the  picture  it  would  not 
appear  to  be  of  greater  perfection  or  higher  beauty 
than  racehorses  that  come,  or  may  come,  within 
experience.  The  poet  may  describe  the  actions  and 
appearance  of  a  courser  in  such  a  way  as  to  suggest 
that  the  animal  has  qualities  far  above  experience, 
but  the  form  of  the  animal  when  thrown  on  the  mind 
of  the  reader,  would  still  appear  to  be  within  the 
bounds  of  experience. 

With  the  human  being,  in  addition  to  the  general 
form  there  enters  into  consideration  the  countenance, 
which  is  the  all-important  seat  of  beauty,  is  the 
principal  key  to  expression,  and  which,  to  the  com- 
mon knowledge,  differs  in  every  person  in  character 
and  proportions.  Nature  never  produces  a  perfect 
form  with  a  perfect  countenance,  and  she  actually 
refuses  to  provide  a  countenance  which  is  free  from 
elements  connected  with  purely  hiiman  instincts  and 
passions.  But  it  is  within  the  power  of  art  to  correct 
the  work  of  nature  in  these  respects — to  put  together 
perfect  parts,  and  to  provide  a  general  expression 
approaching  our  highest  conceptions  of  human 
majesty.  Homer,  Phidias,  and  Raphael  have  en- 
abled us  to  throw  upon  our  minds  images  far  above 
any  of  actual  experience. 

Apart  from  these  ideal  forms,  nature  cannot  be 
surpassed  by  art  in  the  production  of  beauty,  either 
in  respect  of  animate  or  inanimate  signs,  separately 
or  collectively,  the  latter  because  within  the  limita- 


58  Art  Principles 

tions  of  art,  there  is  no  grouping  or  arrangement  of 
signs  possible  which  would  not  appear  to  correspond 
with  what  may  be  observed  in  nature,  unless  some- 
thing abnormal  and  less  beautiful  than  any  natural 
combination  be  presented. 

Poetry,  painting,  and  sculpture  may  be  concerned 
with  ideals.  In  fiction  an  ideal  is  impossible  because 
the  writer  must  treat  of  life  as  it  is,  or  as  it  appears 
to  be,  within  the  bounds  of  experience.  In  neither 
music  nor  architecture  is  there  a  basic  sign  or  com- 
bination of  signs  upon  which  the  imagination  may 
build  up  an  ideal. 


CHAPTER  II 

LAW  OF  RECOGNITION  IN  THE  ASSOCIATED  ARTS 

Explanation  of  the  law — Its  application  to  poetry — To  sculpture — 
To  painting — To  fiction. 

While  we  are  unable  to  explain,  logically  and 
completely,  our  appreciation  of  what  we  understand 
as  beauty,  experience  has  taught  us  that  there  are 
certain  phenomena  connected  with  aesthetic  percep- 
tion which  are  so  regular  and  undeviating  in  their 
application  as  to  have  all  the  force  of  law.  The  first 
and  most  important  of  these  phenomena  relates  to 
the  interval  of  time  elapsing  between  the  sense  per- 
ception of  a  thing  of  art,  and  the  recognition  by  the 
mind  of  the  beauty  therein. 

We  know  from  common  experience  of  the  Asso- 
ciated Arts  that  if  one  fails  to  appreciate  a  work 
almost  immediately  after  comprehending  its  nature 
and  purport,  he  arrives  at  the  conclusion  that  there 
is  no  beauty  therein,  or  at  least  that  the  beauty  is  so 
obscure  as  to  be  scarcely  worth  consideration.  But 
sometimes  on  further  acquaintance  with  the  work 
the  view  of  the  observer  may  be  changed,  and  he 
may  become  aware  of  a  certain  beauty  which  he  did 
not  before  appreciate.  We  notice  also  that  when  the 
beauty  is  comparatively  high,  it  is  more  rapidly  rec- 

5Q 


6o  Art  Principles 

ognized  than  when  it  is  comparatively  low.  Con- 
tinuing the  examination  we  arrive  at  what  is  evi- 
dently an  unalterable  law,  namely,  that  the  higher 
the  aesthetic  value  in  a  particular  sphere  of  art,  the 
more  rapidly  is  the  beauty  therein  recognized;  that 
is  to  say,  given  any  two  works,  other  things  being 
equal,  that  is  the  higher  art  the  beauty  in  which  is 
the  more  quickly  conveyed  to  the  mind  of  the  ob- 
server after  contact  with  it,  and  precisely  to  the 
extent  to  which  the  reasoning  powers  are  required 
to  be  exercised  in  comprehending  the  work,  so  the 
beauty  therein  is  diminished.  The  law  may  be  called 
for  convenience  the  Law  of  Recognition. 

But  there  are  different  kinds  of  beauty  as  well  as 
degrees.  One  kind  may  be  more  quickly  recognized, 
and  yet  make  a  weaker  impression  on  the  mind,  a 
condition  which  is  due  to  the  varying  relations  be- 
tween the  sensorial  and  intellectual  elements  in  the 
works.  We  note  that  in  all  the  Associated  Arts,  as 
the  works  therein  descend  in  aesthetic  value,  the 
emotional  element  becomes  more  evident,  and  con- 
sequently the  impression  received,  less  permanent. 
But  sensorial  beauty  is  the  first  essential  in  a  work  of 
art :  hence  while  the  direct  appeal  to  the  mind  must 
be  made  as  strong  as  possible,  this  must  not  be  done 
at  the  expense  of  the  emotional  elements.  We  un- 
consciously measure  the  emotional  with  the  intellect- 
ual effect,  and  if  the  former  does  not  at  least  equal 
the  latter,  we  reject  the  work  as  inferior  art.  A 
painted  Madonna  wanting  in  beauty  of  features  is 
instantly  and  properly  condemned  even  if  her  figure 
be  enshrined  within  surroundings  of  saintly  glories 


Law  of  Recognition  in  Associated  Arts  6i 

which  in  themselves  make  a  powerful  appeal  to  the 
mind.  In  fact  the  highest  reaches  in  art  were  prob- 
ably originally  suggested  by  the  necessity  of  balan- 
cing the  one  with  the  other  form  of  beauty.  The 
highest  intellectual  considerations  seem  to  rise  far 
above  any  emotional  experiences  connected  with 
ordinary  life,  and  hence  to  enable  these  considera- 
tions to  enter  the  domain  of  art,  the  divine  must  be 
introduced  so  that  the  artist  may  extend  his  imagi- 
native scope  for  the  provision  of  emotional  effects 
commensurate,  as  far  as  possible,  with  the  impor- 
tance of  his  appeal  to  the  mind.  Hence  in  all  arts 
which  combine  an  intellectual  with  an  emotional 
appeal,  the  highest  forms  must  ever  be  connected 
with  the  spiritual. 

In  other  grades  of  these  arts  also,  the  artist  has  to 
use  special  means  to  maintain  a  due  balance  be- 
tween the  two  kinds  of  beauty.  Shakespeare  could 
not  give  men  and  women  of  every-day  experience  the 
wisdom,  the  judgment,  and  the  foresight  necessary 
for  the  presentation  of  the  powerful  pictures  which 
some  of  his  characters  throw  upon  the  mind,  so  he 
raises  them  above  the  level  of  life  by  according  them 
greater  virtues  and  nobler  passions  than  are  to  be 
found  in  people  of  actual  experience.  The  supreme 
emotional  effects  he  produces  seem  perfectly  appro- 
priate therefore  to  the  intellectual  appeals.  In  the 
next  lower  form  of  art,  where  the  representation  does 
not  go  beyond  life  experience,  the  emotional  appeal 
is  of  still  greater  relative  importance  because  the 
appeal  to  the  mind  is  rarely  striking.  The  emotional 
effect  here  may  indeed  be  so  overpowering  that  the 


62  Art  Principles 

purely  mental  considerations  are  lost  sight  of,  and 
we  observe  that  in  all  the  greater  works  of  art  in  the 
division,  whether  of  poetry,  painting,  sculpture,  or 
fiction,  the  intellectual  appeal  is  vastly  exceeded  by 
the  emotional.  When  we  reach  the  grade  which 
deals  with  subjects  inferior  to  the  average  level  of 
human  life,  as  the  representation  of  animals,  land- 
scape, humour,  still  -life,  the  sensorial  effect  must 
be  exceedingly  strong  relatively,  otherwise  the  art 
would  scarcely  be  recognizable,  the  appeal  to  the 
mind  being  necessarily  weak. 

It  is  clearly  compulsory  then  that  the  Associated 
Arts,  all  of  which  may  appeal  to  the  mind  as  well  as 
to  the  senses,  should  be  separated  into  divisions  for 
the  purpose  of  applying  the  Law  of  Recognition,  and 
these  divisions  are  obvious,  for  they  are  marked  by 
the  strongest  natural  boundary  lines.  They  are :  i . 
The  art  which  deals  with  divinities.  2.  That  which 
exhibits  beauty  above  life  experience,  but  does  not 
reach  the  divine.  3.  That  which  represents  life. 
4.  That  which  produces  representations  inferior  to 
life.  This  separation  corresponds  with  that  applied 
by  Aristotle  to  poetry  and  painting,  except  that  he 
joined  the  two  first  sections  into  one,  which  he  de- 
scribed as  better  than  life.  But  the  division  of  the 
great  philosopher,  while  being  sufficient  for  his  pur- 
pose, is  hardly  close  enough  for  the  full  consideration 
of  the  kinds  of  beauty,  since  it  puts  in  the  same  class, 
representations  of  the  divinity  and  the  superman — 
joins  Homer  and  Phidias  with  Praxiteles  and  Ra- 
phael. In  dealing  with  the  divine  the  artist  need  place 
no  limit  to  his  imagination  in  the  presentation  of  his 


Law  of  Recognition  in  Associated  Arts  63 

picture,  whereas  with  the  superman  he  must  circum- 
scribe his  fancy  within  the  Hmits  of  what  may  appear 
to  the  senses  to  be  possibly  natural.  It  is  true  that 
the  poet  may  use  the  supernatural  as  distinguished 
from  the  divine,  to  enable  him  to  extend  his  imagina- 
tive scope,  and  so  give  us  beautiful  pictures  which 
would  be  otherwise  unpresentable.  Shakespeare 
makes  us  imagine  Puck  encircling  the  earth  in  forty 
minutes,  and  Shelley  shows  us  iron-winged  beings 
climbing  the  wind,  but  we  immediately  recognize 
these  pictures  as  figures  of  fancy,  or  as  in  the  nature 
of  allegory,  and  they  do  not  impress  us  so  deeply  as 
the  miraculous  flight  of  a  goddess  of  Homer,  or  an 
assemblage  of  the  satellites  of  Satan  in  the  Hell  of 
Milton,  for  we  involuntarily  regard  these  events  as 
compatible  with  the  religious  faith  of  great  nations, 
and  so  as  having  a  nearer  apparent  semblance  of 
truth.  Sacred  art  therefore,  being  capable  of  pro- 
viding beauty  of  a  much  higher  kind  than  any  other 
form,  should  be  placed  in  a  separate  section  for  the 
purpose  of  considering  the  law  under  discussion. 
Only  poetry  among  the  arts  is  capable  of  appropri- 
ately representing  divine  actions,  and  only  sculpture 
of  producing  a  form  so  perfect  as  to  bring  a  divinity 
to  mind.  Hence  these  arts  are  alone  concerned  with 
the  Law  of  Recognition  as  applied  to  the  first  section 
of  the  Associated  Arts. 

The  law  applies  to  all  the  Associated  Arts,  and  to 
all  sections  of  them,  except  the  lowest  form  of  paint- 
ing— that  represented  by  harmony  of  colour  without 
appeal  to  the  mind  of  any  kind — but  this  form  is  so 
weak  and  exceptional  that  it  need  hardly  be  con- 


64  Art  Principles 

Sidered  in  the  general  proposition.  Indeed  we  might 
reasonably  argue  that  it  does  not  come  within  the 
fine  arts,  as  it  is  produced  by  a  mechanical  arrange- 
ment of  things  with  fijced  and  unalterable  physical 
properties. 

The  law  cannot  apply  to  music  and  architecture, 
for  the  effects  of  these  are  purely  emotional,  and  so 
directly  vary  with  conditions  of  time  and  place  re- 
spectively. A  work  of  architecture  may  seem  more 
beautiful  in  one  place  than  in  another ;  and  a  work  of 
music  more  or  less  beautiful  according  as  it  more  or 
less  synchronizes  with  emotional  conditions  of  human 
activity  surrounding  the  hearer  at  the  time  of  the 
performance. 

While  this  law  is  unvarying  in  the  Associated  Arts, 
there  are  artificial  restrictions  which  must  be  con- 
sidered in  order  that  apparent  deviations  from  it 
may  be  understood.  Special  restrictions  in  relation 
to  the  higher  poetry  and  sculpture  are  mentioned 
later  on,  but  there  is  also  an  important  general  re- 
striction. The  sense  nerves  and  the  imagination,  like 
all  other  functions,  must  be  exercised  in  order  that 
normal  healthy  conditions  may  be  retained;  but  a 
large  section  of  the  people,  by  force  of  circumstances 
or  want  of  will,  have  neglected  this  exercise,  and  so 
through  disuse  or  misuse  these  functions  are  often  in 
a  condition  which  is  little  more  than  rudimentary. 
Hence  such  persons  are  practically  debarred  from 
appreciation  of  many  forms  of  art,  and  particularly 
those  wherein  intellectual  beauty  is  a  marked  feature. 
In  discussing  the  operation  of  this  law  amongst  people 
in  general  therefore,  the  writer  must  be  understood 


Law  of  Recognition  in  Associated  Arts  65 

to  refer  only  to  that  section  of  the  community  whose 
sense  nerves  and  imaginations  may  be  supposed  to 
be  in  a  healthy,  active  condition. 

Experience  with  all  the  Associated  Arts  has  clearly 
demonstrated  the  validity  of  this  law.  The  strength 
of  the  devices  used  by  the  poet  lies  in  simplifying  the 
presentation  of  his  pictures.  Metaphor  is  necessary 
to  the  poet,  for  without  it  he  would  be  poweriess  to 
present  pictures  made  up  of  a  number  of  parts,  but 
he  also  uses  it  for  the  purpose  of  throwing  simple 
images  upon  the  mind  more  rapidly,  and  consequently 
more  forcibly,  than  would  be  possible  if  direct  means 
were  employed;  and  the  beauty  of  the  metaphor 
appears  the  greater  according  as  it  more  completely 
fills  in  the  picture  which  the  poet  is  desirous  of  pre- 
senting. When  other  artifices  than  metaphor  or 
simile  are  applied,  the  result  only  appears  very  beau- 
tiful when  the  condensation  of  the  language  used  is 
extreme,  and  when  there  is  no  break  in  the  delinea- 
tion of  the  action.  A  few  supreme  examples  of 
beauty  derived  from  the  principal  devices  of  the  poet 
for  presenting  his  pictures  may  be  instanced,  and  it 
will  be  found  that  in  each  case  the  power  of  the  image 
is  directly  due  to  the  brevity  of  expression,  the 
simplicity  of  description  and  metaphor,  or  the  un- 
impeded representation  of  action. 

More  than  three  thousand  years  have  passed  since 
the  period  assigned  to  Helen  of  Troy,  and  yet  each 
generation  of  men  and  women  as  they  learn  of  her, 
have  deeply  sealed  upon  their  minds  the  impression 
that  she  was  of  surpassing  beauty,  almost  beyond  the 
reach  of  human  conception.    We  have  practically  no 


66  Art  Principles 

details  of  her  appearance  from  Homer  or  Hesiod, 
except  that  she  was  neat-ankled,  white-armed,  rich- 
haired,  and  had  the  sparkling  eyes  of  the  Graces,  but 
already  in  the  time  of  Hesiod  her  renown  "spread 
over  the  earth."  What  was  it  then  that  estabHshed 
the  eternal  fame  of  her  beauty  ?  Simply  a  few  words 
of  Homer  indicating  the  startling  effect  of  her  appear- 
ance before  the  elders  of  Troy.  We  are  allowed  to 
infer  that  these  dry,  shrunken-formed  sages,  shrill- 
voiced  with  age,  became  passionately  disturbed  by  a 
mere  glance  at  her  figure,  and  nervously  agreed  with 
each  other  that  little  blame  attached  to  the  Greeks 
and  Trojans  for  suffering  such  long  and  severe  hard- 
ships on  account  of  her,  for  only  with  the  goddesses 
could  she  be  compared.  How  wondrous  must  be  the 
beauty  when  a  glimpse  of  it  suffices  to  hasten  the 
blood  through  shrivelled  veins,  and  provoke  tem- 
pestuous currents  to  awake  atrophied  nerves !  With- 
out the  record  of  this  incident,  the  vague  notices  of 
Helen's  appearance  would  be  very  far  from  sufficient 
to  account  for  the  universal  recognition  of  her  mar- 
vellous beauty.  ^^ 

One  of  the  finest  lines  of  Shakespeare  is,  "How 
sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bank."  The 
beauty  of  the  line  rests  entirely  upon  the  use  of  the 
word  "sleeps"  to  express  something  which  could  not 
be  otherwise  said  without  the  use  of  many  words. 
The  moonbeam  is  apparently  perfectly  still,  the 
atmosphere  calm,  and  there  is  nothing  in  the  sur- 
roundings to  disturb  the  natural  tranquillity,  these 
conditions  inducing  a  feeling  of  softness  and  rest  in 
the  observer.    If  it  had  been  necessary  to  say  all  this, 


Law  of  Recognition  in  Associated  Arts  67 

Shakespeare  would  certainly  have  omitted  reference  to 
the  moonlight,  but  his  powerful  imagination  brings  to 
mind  the  word ' '  sleeps  "  to  express  the  conditions,  and 
we  are  overwhelmed  with  a  beautiful  picture  suddenly 
thrown  on  the  brain  as  if  by  a  brilliant  flash  of  light. 

Among  the  many  illustrations  of  the  point  which 
may  be  found  in  the  Bible,  is  the  great  passage, 
"And  God  said,  'Let  there  be  Light,'  and  there  was 
Light."  This  is  described  by  Longinus  as  nobly 
expressed,  but  he  does  not  suggest  any  cause  for  its 
aesthetic  effect.  It  is  true  that  nothing  could  be 
finer,  but  the  nobility  of  the  expression  is  derived 
from  its  brevity — from  the  extreme  rapidity  with 
which  so  vast  and  potent  an  event  as  an  act  of  crea- 
tion is  pictured  on  the  brain.  ^^  A  description  of  an 
act  of  creation,  although  involving  psychological 
considerations  of  sublimity,  is  not  necessarily  so 
beautiful  in  expression  as  to  be  a  work  of  art. 

In  the  case  of  lyric  poetry,  brevity  of  expression, 
though  still  of  high  importance,  is  not  of  so  much 
moment  as  in  epic  or  dramatic  verse,  because  the 
substance  is  subordinated  to  beauty  of  expression 
and  musical  form.  Devices  are  used  chiefly  for 
strengthening  the  sensorial  element,  the  appeal  to  the 
mind  being  in  most  cases  secondary.  Nevertheless 
the  lyric  poet  wastes  no  words.  Take  for  example 
Sappho's  Ode  to  Anactoria.  The  substance  of  these 
amazing  lines  is  comparatively  insignificant,  being 
merely  the  expression  of  emotion  on  the  part  of  an 
individual  consequent  upon  disappointment,  yet  the 
transcendent  beauty  of  the  poem  has  held  enthralled 
fourscore  generations  of  men  and  women,  and  still 


68  Art  Principles 

the  world  gasps  with  astonishment  at  its  perfection. 
Obviously  the  beauty  of  the  ode  rests  mainly  on 
qualities  of  form  which  cannot  be  reproduced  in 
translation,  but  the  substance  may  be,  and  it  will  be 
observed  that  the  description  of  the  action  is  un- 
surpassable. The  picture,  the  whole  picture,  and 
nothing  but  the  picture,  is  thrown  on  the  mind 
rapidly  and  directly;  so  rapidly  that  the  movement 
of  the  brush  is  scarcely  discernible,  and  so  simply 
that  not  a  thought  is  required  for  its  elucidation. 
With  the  chain  of  symptoms  broken  or  less  closely 
connected,  the  passion  indicated  would  be  compara- 
tively feeble,  whatever  the  force  of  the  artifices  in 
rhythm  and  expression  which  Sappho  knew  so  well 
how  to  employ.^'' 

As  with  poetry,  so  with  the  arts  of  sculpture  and 
painting:  the  greatest  works  result  from  simple 
designs.  All  the  sculptures  which  we  recognize  as 
sublime  or  highly  beautiful,  consist  of  single  figures, 
or  in  very  rare  cases,  groups  of  two  or  three,  and 
indeed  it  is  difficult  to  hold  in  our  minds  a  carved 
group  of  several  figures.  The  images  of  the  Zeus  and 
Athena  of  Phidias,  though  we  know  little  of  them 
except  from  literary  records  and  inferior  copies,  are 
far  more  brilliantly  mirrored  upon  our  minds  than 
the  Parthenon  reliefs.  The  importance  of  simplicity 
is  perhaps  more  readily  seen  in  sculpture  than  in  any 
other  art,  for  the  slightest  fault  in  design  has  an 
immediate  effect  upon  the  mind  of  the  observer.  It 
is  noticeable  that  the  decadence  of  a  great  art  period 
is  usually  first  marked  by  complications  in  sculp- 
tured figures,  ^s 


Law  of  Recognition  in  Associated  Arts  69 

In  painting,  the  pictures  which  we  regard  as  great 
are  characterized  by  their  simpHcity,  and  the  im- 
mediate recognition  of  their  purport.  They  are 
either  ideal  figures,  or  groups  where  at  least  the 
central  figure  is  idealized  and  commonly  known. 
The  work  must  be  grasped  at  one  glance  for  the 
beauty  to  be  of  a  high  order.  Hence  in  the  case  of 
frescoes  great  artists  have  not  attempted  to  make  the 
beauty  of  any  part  dependent  upon  the  comprehen- 
sion of  the  whole.  It  is  impossible  for  the  eye  to  take 
in  at  a  single  glance  the  whole  of  a  large  fresco  paint- 
ing, and  this  explains  why  a  fresco  celebrated  for  its 
beauty  is  often  disappointing  to  one  who  sees  it  for 
the  first  time,  and  endeavours  to  impress  it  on  his 
mind  as  a  single  picture  by  rapidly  piecing  together 
the  different  parts.  ^^  Polygnotus  could  well  paint 
forty  scenes  from  Homer  as  mural  decoration  in  one 
hall,  for  they  could  only  be  examined  and  understood 
as  separate  pictures ;  and  the  ceiling  of  Michelangelo 
at  the  Vatican  is  so  arranged  that  there  is  no  neces- 
sity for  combining  the  parts  in  the  mind.  So  with 
the  Parma  frescoes  of  Correggio.  Raphael  had  a 
different  task  in  his  Vatican  frescoes,  but  he  accom- 
plished it  by  arranging  his  figures  so  that  each  sep- 
arate group  is  a  beautiful  picture;  and  Lionardo  in 
his  great  work  at  Milan  divided  the  Apostles  into 
groups  of  three  in  order  to  minimize  the  consideration 
necessary  for  the  appreciation  of  so  large  a  work. 

Fiction  is  divided  into  two  sections,  the  novel  and 
the  short  story,  and  they  are  so  distinct  in  character 
that  they  must  necessarily  be  considered  separately 
in  the  application  of  the  law  under  discussion.    Form 


70  Art  Principles 

is  of  high  importance  in  both  classes  of  the  art,  but 
weighs  more  in  the  short  story  because  here  the 
appeal  to  the  mind  is  imavoidably  restricted.  The 
novelist  is  capable  of  producing  a  higher  beauty  than 
is  within  the  range  of  the  short-story  writer.  The 
latter  is  limited  in  his  delineation  of  character  to  the 
circumstances  surrounding  a  single  experience,  while 
the  novelist,  in  describing  various  experiences,  may 
add  shade  upon  shade  in  expression  and  thus  elevate 
the  characters  and  actions  above  the  level  possible 
of  attainment  by  means  of  a  single  incident.  But 
within  his  limit  the  short-story  writer  may  provide 
his  beauty  more  easily  than  the  novelist,  because  a 
picture  can  be  more  readily  freed  from  complications 
when  away  from  surroundings,  than  when  it  forms 
one  of  a  series  of  pictures  which  must  have  connecting 
links.  A  good  short  story  consists  of  a  single  incident 
or  experience  in  a  life  history.  It  is  clearly  cut,  with- 
out introduction,  and  void  of  a  conclusion  which  is 
not  directly  part  of  the  incident.  The  subject  is  of 
general  interest ;  the  language  simple,  of  common  use, 
and  free  from  mannerisms ;  while  there  are  no  acces- 
sories beyond  those  essential  for  the  comprehension 
of  the  scheme.  These  conditions,  which  imply  the 
most  extreme  simplicity,  are  present  in  all  the 
greatest  short  stories  known  to  us — the  best  works  of 
the  author  of  the  Contes  Nouvelles,  of  Sacchetti, 
Boccaccio,  Margaret  of  Navarre,  Hoffman,  Poe,  and 
De  Maupassant.  The  novel  differs  from  the  short 
story  in  that  it  is  a  large  section  of  a  life  with  many 
experiences,  but  the  principles  under  which  the  two 
varieties  of  fiction  are  built  up,  are  precisely  the  same. 


Law  of  Recognition  in  Associated  Arts  71 

Obviously  the  limit  in  length  of  a  novel  is  that  point 
beyond  which  the  writer  cannot  enhance  the  beauty 
of  character  and  action,  while  maintaining  the  unity 
of  design.  This  means  the  concentration  of  effort  in 
the  direction  of  simplicity,  facilitating  the  rapid  re- 
ception of  the  pictures  presented  by  the  writer  upon 
the  mind  of  the  reader. 

It  is  thus  evident  that  the  higher  the  beauty  in 
the  Associated  Arts,  the  simpler  are  the  signs  or  sign 
combinations  which  produce  it;  and  hence  the  Law 
of  Recognition  rests  on  a  secure  foundation,  for  the 
simple  must  necessarily  be  recognized  before  the 
complex. 


CHAPTER  III 

LAW  OF  GENERAL  ASSENT 

General    opinion    the    test    of    beauty    in    the    Associated    Arts. 

The  first  aim  of  art  is  sensorial  beauty,  because 
sensorial  experience  must  precede  the  impression  of 
beauty  upon  the  mind.  The  extent  to  which  some- 
thing appears  to  be  sensorially  harmonious  depends 
upon  the  condition  or  character  of  the  nerves  con- 
veying the  impression  of  it  to  the  brain.  We  know 
from  experience  that  exercise  of  these  nerves  results 
in  the  removal  or  partial  removal  of  natural  irregu- 
larities therein,  and  enables  a  complex  form  of  beauty 
to  be  recognized  which  was  not  before  perceived. 
The  vast  majority  of  the  people  have  not  cultivated 
their  sense  nerves  except  involuntarily,  and  conse- 
quently can  only  recognize  more  or  less  simple  beauty : 
thus,  as  the  sign  combinations  become  more  com- 
plicated, so  is  diminished  the  number  of  persons 
capable  of  appreciating  the  beauty  thereof. 

The  highest  form  of  beauty  conceivable  to  the 
imagination  is  that  of  the  human  being,  because  here 
corporeal  and  intellectual  beauty  may  be  combined. 
This  is  universally  admitted  and  has  been  so  since 
the  first  records  of  mental  activity.     The  human 

72 


Law  of  General  Assent  73 

figure  must  be  regarded  as  a  single  sign  since  the 
relation  of  its  parts  to  each  other  is  fixed  and  invari- 
able; and  further  it  is  the  simplest,  because  of  all 
signs  none  is  so  quickly  recognized  by  the  rudiment- 
ary understanding.  In  the  Associated  Arts  there- 
fore, the  highest  beauty  is  to  be  found  in  the  simplest 
sign,  and  this  is  the  one  supremely  important  sign 
in  these  arts,  for  without  it  only  the  lowest  forms 
may  be  produced. 

From  all  this  we  determine  that  the  higher  the 
beauty  in  a  work  of  the  Associated  Arts,  the  larger 
is  the  number  of  persons  capable  of  recognizing  it; 
so  that  if  we  say  that  something  in  these  arts  is 
beautiful  because  it  pleases,  we  imply  that  it  is  still 
more  beautiful  if  we  say  that  it  generally  pleases, 
and  the  highest  of  all  standards  of  beauty  is  involved 
in  the  interpretation  of  Longinus:  "That  is  sublime 
and  beautiful  which  always  pleases,  and  takes  equally 
with  all  sorts  of  men. ' '  Thus,  in  the  Associated  Arts, 
the  general  opinion  as  to  the  aesthetic  value  of  a  work 
of  high  art  is  both  demonstration  and  law.  ^  ^ 

In  music  the  significance  of  the  signs  is  inverted 
compared  with  the  progression  in  the  Associated 
Arts,  for  while  in  the  latter  the  highest  form  of  beauty 
is  produced  by  the  simplest  of  single  signs,  in  music 
the  higher  forms  are  the  result  of  complex  combina- 
tions of  signs.  The  greatest  musical  compositions 
consist  of  an  immense  variety  of  signs  arranged  in  a 
hitherto  unknown  order.  Thus,  while  the  immature 
or  uncultivated  mind  recognizes  the  higher  forms  of 
beauty  before  the  lower  in  the  Associated  Arts,  it 
first  recognizes  the  lower  forms  in  music.     In  the 


74  Art  Principles 

Associated  Arts  therefore,  cultivation  results  in  the 
further  appreciation  of  the  forms  of  art  as  they  de- 
scend, and  in  music  as  they  ascend. 

In  painting,  the  most  uncultivated  persons,  even 
those  who  have  never  exercised  their  organs  of  sight 
except  involuntarily,  will  always  admire  the  higher 
forms  before  the  lower.  ^^  They  will  more  highly 
appreciate  a  picture  of  a  Madonna  or  other  beautiful 
woman  than  an  interior  where  the  scene  is  compara- 
tively complicated  by  the  presence  of  several  persons, 
and  they  will  prefer  the  interior  to  a  landscape,  and 
a  landscape  to  a  still-life  picture.  So  in  sculpture. 
Other  things  being  equal,  a  figure  of  a  man  or  woman 
will  be  preferred  to  a  group,  and  the  group  to  an 
animal  or  decorative  ornament.  An  exception  must 
however  be  made  in  respect  of  the  sublime  reaches  of 
Grecian  sculpture  in  the  fifth  and  fourth  centuries 
B.C.,  owing  to  an  artificial  restriction.  There  is  very 
little  of  this  sculpture  to  be  actually  seen,  nearly  all 
the  more  important  works  being  known  only  from 
records  or  variable  copies.  Considerable  observation, 
comparison,  and  study,  are  necessary  before  one  can 
gain  a  fair  conception  of  the  Grecian  ideals,  and  so 
they  are  practically  lost  to  the  bulk  of  the  people. 

In  fiction  it  is  common  knowledge  that  the  greatest 
works  from  the  point  of  view  of  art  are  always  the 
most  popular,  as  they  are  invariably  the  most  simple 
in  construction  and  diction.  In  considering  poetry 
we  must  exclude  the  great  epics,  as  those  of  Homer, 
Virgil,  Dante,  and  Milton,  because  where  the  actions 
of  supernatural  persons  are  described,  the  sentiments 
and  language  employed  are  so  elevated  in  character, 


Law  of  General  Assent  75 

and  the  images  and  literary  references  so  numerous, 
that  a  certain  superior  education  is  required  before 
the  sense  of  the  poems  can  be  comprehended.  Sub- 
ject to  this  artificial  restriction,  the  rule  holds  en- 
tirely good.  Shakespeare  is  at  once  the  greatest  and 
most  popular  of  our  poets:  Shelley,  Byron,  and 
Bums,  are  as  far  ahead  of  Tennyson  and  Browning 
in  popularity  as  they  are  in  general  beauty  and 
simplicity. 

In  music  on  the  other  hand  the  lower  forms  are  the 
simplest  and  consequently  the  most  popular.  Songs, 
dance  measures,  and  ditties  of  various  kinds,  are 
enjoyed  by  the  mass  of  the  people  in  preference  to 
Beethoven  and  Wagner,  a  certain  cultivation  of  the 
aural  nerves  being  necessary  for  the  appreciation  of 
the  greater  artists.  The  architect  is  under  the  neces- 
sity of  meeting  the  ends  of  utility,  but  subject  to  this 
restriction  it  is  obvious  that  simplicity  must  be  the 
keynote  to  his  design,  for  the  highest  quality  of 
beauty  in  his  power  to  produce  is  grandeur,  and  this 
diminishes  with  an  increase  in  the  complexity  of  his 
sign  combinations.  The  combination  of  simplicity 
with  grandeur  is  the  first  form  of  beauty  that  would 
be  recognized  by  the  immature  eye,  and  consequently 
in  respect  of  the  general  test  of  art  excellence,  archi- 
tecture falls  into  line  with  the  Associated  Arts,  and 
not  with  music. 

From  what  has  been  said  it  will  be  understood  how 
it  is  that  in  the  Associated  Arts  opinion  as  to  the 
aesthetic  value  of  particular  works  begins  to  differ 
as  soon  as  we  leave  the  recognized  masterpieces  of 
the  first  rank,  and  why  the  divergence  widens  with 


76  Art  Principles 

every  step  downwards.  As  the  character  of  the  art  is 
lowered  so  is  diminished  the  number  of  persons  ca- 
pable of  appreciating  it.  In  painting  and  sculpture 
this  diminution  is  direct  with  the  increased  complex- 
ity of  the  signs  used,  and  indirect  according  as  the 
character  of  the  signs  weakens.  In  poetry  the  same 
rule  applies  generally,  but  in  the  lower  forms  alliance 
with  the  art  of  music  may  bring  about  a  variation. 
Only  the  very  lowest  forms  of  music  may  be  used 
with  the  higher  forms  of  poetry  because  the  poet  must 
have  the  minimum  of  restriction  when  dealing  with 
the  character  and  actions  of  the  personages  who  con- 
stitute the  principal  signs  in  his  work,  but  as  the 
art  descends  the  musical  form  becomes  of  more  im- 
portance, and  the  substance  more  simple.  Hence  the 
sensorial  beauty  of  a  lyric  may  be  appreciated  more 
quickly  than  that  of  a  poem  which  is,  in  substance, 
of  a  much  higher  order,  though  the  kind  of  beauty 
recognized  will  differ  in  the  two  cases.  But  even  in 
the  greatest  lyric  the  musical  form  is  comparatively 
very  simple,  its  beauty  being  recognized  without 
special  cultivation  of  the  aural  nerves :  thus,  subject 
to  the  division  of  poetry  into  its  natural  grades — the 
two  sections  where  substance  and  form  respectively 
predominate — the  measure  of  its  beauty  is  the  extent 
to  which  it  is  generally  appreciated.  None  of  the 
other  Associated  Arts  may  be  allied  with  a  second 
art  without  crippling  it  as  a  fine  art,  because  of  the 
extraordinary  limitations  forced  upon  the  artist  by 
the  alliance;  and  hence  in  respect  of  sculpture,  paint- 
ing, and  fiction,  there  is  no  exception  to  the  rule  that 
the  beauty  capable  of  being  produced  diminishes 


Law  of  General  Assent  77 

strictly  with  an  increase  in  the  complexity  of  the 
signs  used. 

These  facts  appear  sufficiently  to  establish  what 
may  be  called  the  Law  of  General  Assent  in  the 
Associated  Arts ;  that  is  to  say,  in  the  arts  of  poetry, 
sculpture,  painting,  and  fiction,  the  supreme  test  of 
the  aesthetic  value  of  a  work,  is  general  opinion ;  and 
a  corollary  of  this  is  that  the  smaller  the  number  of 
persons  to  whom  a  work  of  one  of  these  arts  appeals, 
the  weaker  is  the  art  therein. 


CHAPTER  IV 

LIMITATIONS   OF  THE   ASSOCIATED  ARTS 

The  production  of  beauty  in  the  respective  arts — How  they  differ 

in  scope. 

The  Associated  Arts  have  all  the  same  method 
of  producing  beauty:  they  throw  pictures  on  the 
brain.  ^'  Sensorial  or  intellectual  beauty,  or  both 
together,  may  be  exhibited,  but  in  the  arts  of  the 
painter  and  sculptor  the  picture  is  transferred  to  the 
brain  through  the  optic  nerves,  and  is  necessarily 
presented  before  the  intellect  can  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  the  impression.  The  arts  of  the  poet  and  the 
story  writer  involve  the  presentation  of  a  picture 
representing  the  complete  composition,  and  in  addi- 
tion when  the  work  is  lengthy,  of  a  series  of  pictures 
each  of  which  strengthens  the  relief  of  the  general 
design.  The  painter  and  sculptor  each  presents  a 
complete  picture,  the  meaning  of  which  is  imme- 
diately determined  through  the  sense  of  sight,  and  the 
extent  of  the  beauty  is  bounded  by  what  can  be 
recognized  by  this  sense.  All  the  signs  necessary  to 
perfect  the  composition  are  simultaneously  indicated, 
the  artist  exhibiting  at  one  blow  a  full  description  of 
what  makes  up  his  thing  of  beauty.     But  the  poet 

78 


Limitations  of  the  Associated  Arts    79 

cannot  so  produce  a  picture  because  he  presents  the 
parts  successively  and  not  simultaneously,  and  in  the 
most  important  of  all  the  forms  which  he  represents — 
that  of  the  human  countenance — both  beauty  and 
expression  have  to  be  defined,  and  the  separate  ele- 
ments are  indescribable.  Consequently,  however,  we 
may  combine  the  features  of  a  countenance  as  de- 
scribed by  the  poet,  we  cannot  throw  a  picture  of  the 
whole  upon  our  minds.  A  particular  form  of  beauty 
must  be  presented  to  the  eye  before  it  can  be  men- 
tally pictured.  The  poet  therefore  does  not  attempt 
to  dovetail  his  picture  of  the  human  form  with  de- 
scriptive details,  but  relies  upon  imagery,  suggestion, 
or  other  artifice,  to  indicate  his  meaning  in  the  most 
rapid  way  possible.-^"  The  novelist  is  in  the  same 
position  as  the  poet  in  this  respect,  except  that  some 
of  the  devices  of  the  latter  are  denied  him. 

But  although  the  poet  or  novelist  cannot  put  to- 
gether the  parts  in  his  description,  he  may  in  certain 
cases  present  natural  beauty  to  the  mind,  his  scppe 
depending  upon  the  nature  of  the  parts  and  the  ex- 
tent to  which  they  depend  upon  each  other  for  the 
completion  of  the  picture.  Where  the  beauty  of  the 
whole  rests  upon  a  combination  of  perfected  parts  of 
form  only,  as  in  the  case  of  a  horse,  then  the  poet  is 
able  to  present  beauty  of  form  notwithstanding  that 
the  separate  parts  are  in  themselves  not  beautiful, 
though  the  beauty  would  be  that  of  the  type  and 
not  of  the  individual.  The  beauty  of  a  horse  depends 
upon  its  possession  of  a  collection  of  features  which 
have  each  a  particular  significance.  If  we  are  able  to 
recognize  from  a  description  that  a  horse  has  qualities 


8o  Art  Principles 

of  form  and  action  indicating  speed,  high  spirits, 
proud  bearing,  and  so  on,  and  at  the  same  time  has  a 
harmonious  symmetry  in  its  general  outline,  a  beau- 
tiful animal  is  thrown  on  the  mind  without  difficulty. 
We  readily  picture  the  courser  described  by  Shake- 
speare in  his  Venus  and  Adonis  as  a  beautiful  horse, 
but  we  should  not  be  able  to  differentiate  it  from  the 
courser  of  Mazeppa.  Where  the  parts  of  the  thing 
described  are  in  themselves  beautiful,  then  the  poet 
may  successfully  throw  on  the  mind  a  series  of  pic- 
tures of  aesthetic  interest.  Thus,  he  may  call  to  the 
imagination  parts  of  a  landscape  which  are  in  them- 
selves beautiful  scenes,  as  for  ihstance  a  deep  gorge 
opening  on  to  a  lake,  or  a  flowery  valley,  though  the 
parts  could  not  be  put  together  on  the  mind  so  that 
the  beauty  of  the  whole  may  be  presented.  ^^ 

Summing  up  the  limits  of  the  Associated  Arts  in 
the  presentation  of  the  two  kinds  of  beauty,  the  poet 
and  the  novelist  can  present  general  or  particular 
beauty  of  mind,  and  general  sensorial  beauty,  but  are 
powerless  with  particular  sensorial  beauty;  the  sculp- 
tor and  painter  may  present  general  or  particular 
sensorial  beauty,  and  general,  but  not  particular, 
beauty  of  mind.  Particular  sensorial  beauty  may  be 
suggested  by  the  poet  or  novelist,  by  indicating  its 
emotional  effect,  or  by  symbols  in  the  form  of  meta- 
phor ;  and  particular  intellectual  beauty  may  be  sug- 
gested by  the  sculptor  or  painter  by  representing 
the  effect  in  expression  of  a  particular  action,  or  by 
symbols  in  the  form  of  human  figures  of  beauty. 

But  while  the  poet  cannot  throw  upon  the  brain  a 
particular  form  of  human  beauty,  he  may  suggest  a 


PLATE   8 


Raphael's  Sistine  Madonna,  with  the  Face  of  the  Central  Figure  in  Fragonard's 

"The  Pursuit"  Substituted  for  that  of  the  Virgin  (See  page  139) 


Limitations  of  the  Associated  Arts    8i 

greater  beauty  than  that  which  the  painter  or  sculp- 
tor can  depict,  and  further  produce  emotional  effects 
relating  to  spiritual  and  human  actions  and  passions 
which  are  beyond  the  plastic  arts:  hence  his  art  is 
capable  of  the  highest  reaches.  Next  to  him  come 
the  sculptor  and  painter,  for  they  may  represent  ideal 
forms  which  must  be  excluded  from  fiction.  Theoret- 
ically, painting  and  sculpture  are  equal  in  respect  of 
the  production  of  human  beauty,  for  there  is  no  form 
designed  by  the  one  which  may  not  be  presented  by 
the  other;  but  practically  the  painter  cannot  attain 
to  the  height  of  the  sculptor  in  the  representation  of 
ideal  beauty.* 

The  sculptor  and  painter  are  at  a  disadvantage 
compared  with  the  poet  and  novelist,  for  the  limita- 
tion of  their  arts  compels  them  to  confine  their 
imaginations  to  structural  work.  Each  of  the  Asso- 
ciated Arts  consists  nominally  of  three  parts :  {a)  the 
scheme,  or  idea,  or  fable ;  {b)  the  design  or  invention  ^  ^ ; 
(c)  the  execution.  In  a  representation  of  action,  the 
painter  or  sculptor  can  only  depict  a  particular  mo- 
ment of  it,  neither  the  beginning  nor  the  end  being 
visible.  He  must  therefore  choose  an  action  of  which 
the  beginning  and  end  are  known,  for  while  either 
may  be  suggested  in  a  simple  design,  both  cannot  be 
implied  so  that  the  whole  story  is  obvious.  He  has 
consequently  to  take  his  moment  of  action  from  a 
fact  or  fable  in  one  of  the  literary  arts,  or  from  actual 
life  experienced^  Where  no  particular  action  is 
indicated,  as  in  many  pastoral  and  interior  scenes 
in  painting,  or  ornamental  figures  in  sculpture,  the 

»  See  Chapter  IX. 
6 


82  Art  Principles 

conception  and  invention  are  one.  Thus,  the  painter 
or  sculptor  is  confined  to  only  two  parts  of  his  art, 
the  design  and  execution.  While  therefore  the  scope 
of  the  poet  and  novelist  is  as  unlimited  as  the  sea  of 
human  motives  and  passions,  that  of  the  painter  and 
sculptor  is  held  within  strictly  marked  bounds. 

All  the  Associated  Arts  are  alike  in  that  they  can- 
not be  specially  used  for  moral  or  social  purposes 
without  suffering  a  marked  deterioration.  This  is 
because  of  the  limitations  imposed  upon  the  artist. 
His  wings  are  clipped:  his  imagination  is  confined 
within  a  narrow  groove:  he  is  converted  from  a 
master  to  a  slave.  Hence  no  great  work  of  one  of 
these  arts  has  been  produced  where  the  conception 
of  the  artist  was  bound  by  the  necessity  of  pointing  a 
moral,  or  of  conforming  to  some  idea  of  utility.  ^^ 


CHAPTER  V 

DEGREES  OF  BEAUTY  IN  THE  PAINTER's  ART 

The  degrees  of  beauty  which  the  art  of  the  painter 
can  exhibit  appear  to  be,  in  order  of  their  value,  as 
follows : 

1.  That  which  appeals  to  the  senses  with  form, 
and  to  the  mind  with  expression,  above  the  possi- 
bility of  life  experience.  This  double  beauty  can 
only  be  found  in  ideals,  and  the  real  cannot  be  asso- 
ciated with  it  except  as  accessory.  The  highest  art 
of  the  painter  is  therefore  confined  to  sacred,  my- 
thological, and  symbolical  subjects. 

2.  That  which  appeals  to  the  senses  through  rep- 
resentation of  the  human  form,  without,  or  with 
only  partial  idealization,  and  to  the  mind  through  the 
indication  in  expression  of  high  abstract  qualities. 
This  section  comprises  subjects  of  profane  history, 
and  high  class  portraiture.  It  varies  from  the  suc- 
ceeding section  in  that  the  artist  may  represent  the 
human  being  as  he  ought  to  be,  or  would  be  with  the 
higher  physical  and  abstract  qualities  emphasized,  or 
in  certain  cases,  with  these  qualities  added. 

3.  That  which  appeals  to  the  senses  through  the 
harmony  of  tone  and  design,  and  to  the  mind  through 
the  representation  of  human  action  within  the  com- 

83 


84  Art  Principles 

pass  of  life  experience.  This  section  comprises  in- 
teriors and  exteriors  relating  to  daily  life  and  labour, 
and  portraiture  which  is  merely  accurate  imitation  of 
features.  It  differs  from  the  previous  section  in  that 
it  represents  the  human  being  as  he  is,  and  not  as  he 
ought  to  be. 

4.  That  which  appeals  to  the  senses  through 
harmony  of  colour  and  design,  in  respect  of  the  imita- 
tion and  the  things  imitated,  in  addition  to  pleasing 
because  it  excites  admiration  of  the  skill  in  imitation. 
This  section  comprises  landscape,  flowers,  fine 
plumaged  birds,  and  certain  symmetrical  animal 
forms. 

5.  That  which  appeals  to  the  senses  through 
harmony  of  tone  and  design,  and  indirectly  to  the 
mind  through  association  of  ideas  connected  with 
the  other  arts;  in  addition  to  pleasing  because  of 
the  excellent  imitation,  and  possibly  because  of  the 
beauty  of  the  things  imitated.  This  section  com- 
prises paintings  of  things  connected  with  the  other 
arts,  and  which  are  neither  beautiful  nor  displeas- 
ing, such  as  books  and  musical  instruments ;  or  which 
are  imitations  of  products  of  another  art,  as  plate, 
marble  reliefs,  or  architectural  forms. 

6.  That  which  appeals  to  the  senses  through 
harmony  of  tone  and  design,  in  addition  to  pleasing 
because  of  the  excellent  imitation.  This  class  of 
beauty  comprises  paintings  of  objects  which  in  them- 
selves are  not  beautiful,  as  vegetables,  kitchen  uten- 
sils, and  certain  animals;  or  which  are  even  repellent, 
as  dead  animals. 

7.  That  which  appeals  to  the  senses  through 


Degrees  of  Beauty  in  the  Painter's  Art  85 

harmony  of  colour,  the  design  having  no  beauty  in 
itself.  This  form  of  art,  which  is  the  lowest  in  the 
scale  of  the  painter,  is  only  adapted  for  the  simplest 
formal  decoration. 

The  first  three  sections  may  produce  both  sensorial 
and  intellectual  beauty;  the  others  only  sensorial. 
Limited  abstract  qualities  are  associated  with  certain 
animals  in  nature,  but  cannot  be  indicated  in  the 
uncombined  art  of  the  painter. 

Beyond  these  sections,  there  are  classes  of  pictures 
which  do  not  belong  to  the  pure  art  of  the  painter, 
namely,  those  executed  for  use  and  not  for  beauty ^sj 
those  painted  to  illustrate  sports,  or  to  record  passing 
events ;  certain  allegorical  paintings ;  and  those  works 
which,  while  they  cannot  represent  the  ideal,  require 
the  assistance  of  another  art  for  their  interpretation ; 
as  for  instance,  incidents  to  illustrate  particular 
morals  or  stories;  scenes  from  the  drama  other  than 
tragedy ;  portraits  of  persons  in  character ;  humorous 
subjects,  and  so  on.  Such  works,  on  account  of  the 
restrictions  imposed  on  the  artist,  can  exhibit  but 
limited  and  fleeting  beauty.  Elsewhere  they  are 
noticed  under  the  heading  of  "Secondary  Art." 


CHAPTER  VI 

EXPRESSION.       PART    I. — THE    IDEAL 

The  human  being  is  the  only  sign  in  the  arts  ca- 
pable of  idealization,  because,  while  its  parts  are  fixed 
and  invariable,  it  is  the  only  sign  as  to  which  there  is 
a  universal  agreement  in  respect  of  the  value  of 
abstract  qualities  connected  with  it.  There  can  be 
no  ideal  of  the  human  form  separately,  because  this 
implies  expression  which  results  from  abstract  quali- 
ties. Nor  can  there  be  an  ideal  combination  of  these 
qualities,  except  a  general  expression  covering  all  the 
virtues  and  eliminating  all  the  passions,  which  ex- 
pression cannot  be  disassociated  from  form.  The 
ideal  human  being  is  therefore  a  perfect  generaliza- 
tion of  the  highest  conceivable  qualities  of  form  and 
expression. 

Necessarily  in  matters  of  art,  when  we  use  the 
term  ' '  Ideal,  "  we  mean  a  general  ideal,  that  is  to  say, 
an  ideal  that  would  be  accepted  as  such  by  the  gen- 
eral body  of  men  and  women.  From  the  fact  that 
the  sensorial  nerves  in  all  persons  are  alike  in  form 
and  character,  and  that  they  act  in  the  same  way 
under  like  conditions,  it  follows  that  there  must  be  a 
general  agreement  as  to  degrees  of  beauty,  and  thus  a 
common  conception  of  the  ideal  human  being.    Ex- 

86 


Expression — The  Ideal  87 

perience  has  demonstrated  this  at  all  times,  both  in 
respect  of  the  general  ideal  we  are  now  discussing, 
and  of  particular  ideals  involving  special  types  and 
characters;  and  so  invariable  is  this  experience  that 
the  progression  towards  similar  ideals  has  all  the 
force  of  law.  ^^  This  general  agreement  is  subject  to 
certain  restrictions.  The  first  is  in  regard  to  form 
in  which  the  imagination  cannot  proceed  beyond 
experience.  The  component  parts  of  an  ideal  form 
cannot  include  any  which  are  higher  in  quality  than 
those  which  have  come  within  the  experience  of  the 
person  compounding  the  ideal.  Secondly,  in  regard 
to  abstract  qualities,  the  estimation  of  these  depends 
upon  intelligence  and  education,  and  the  accumulated 
experience  of  these  things,  which  we  measure  in 
terms  of  degrees  of  civili;zation.  Consequently, 
different  interpretations  would  be  placed  upon  the 
phrase  "the  highest  conceivable  qualities  of  form 
and  expression,"  by  the  various  races  of  mankind. 
According  as  the  experience  was  greater,  so  would  the 
ideal  form  be  higher  in  type;  and  as  the  civilization 
was  more  advanced,  so  would  the  abstract  qualities 
exhibited  be  more  perfect  in  character.  But  among 
civilized  peoples  what  is,  within  our  understanding, 
the  ultimate  form  of  the  ideal,  would  not  change  in 
respect  of  abstract  qualities,  and  as  to  form  would 
only  vary  in  comparatively  insignificant  details  with 
the  width  of  experience. 

It  is  obvious  that  there  can  be  only  one  general 
ideal  covering  perfection  of  form  and  mind,  and  this 
being  beyond  human  experience,  can  only  be  asso- 
ciated with  a  spiritual  personage,  and  necessarily 


88  Art  Principles 

with  the  highest  conceivable  spiritual  personage — 
the  Supreme  Being.  In  its  absolute  perfection  it 
may  be  significant  of  the  Supreme  Being  of  any 
religion  of  civilized  peoples,  but  not  of  other  spiritual 
personages  to  whom  such  perfection  may  also  be 
attributed,  because  absolute  power  can  only  be  im- 
plied in  one  such  personage.  This  power  cannot  be 
indicated  in  an  ideal  expression,  and  hence  there  is 
no  alternative  but  to  leave  the  one  general  ideal  to 
the  Supreme  Being. 

There  are  only  two  religions  in  which  an  ideal 
human  form  has  been  used  in  art  to  typify  the 
Supreme  Being,  and  these  are  the  ancient  Grecian 
and  the  Christian ;  but  the  one  general  ideal  referred 
to  has  only  been  used  by  the  Greeks.  The  Christian 
conception  of  the  Deity  is  far  nobler  than  that  which 
the  Greeks  had  of  Zeus,  but  in  art  nothing  greater 
than  the  Grecian  ideal  has  been  executed.  As  a  type 
of  an  Almighty  Power  the  best  Christian  representa- 
tion is  distinctly  inferior,  and  it  must  necessarily  be 
so  because  convention  requires  that  a  particular 
feature  of  expression  must  be  indicated  therein  which 
is  not  compulsory  in  the  Grecian  ideal.  Forgiveness 
of  sins  is  a  cardinal  principle  in  the  Christian  doc- 
trine, and  consequently  whatever  the  character  of 
expression  given  to  the  Deity,  a  certain  gentleness 
has  to  be  exhibited  which  materially  limits  the  com- 
prehensive nature  of  the  expression.  The  Grecian 
ideal,  as  sculptured,  strictly  denied  any  particular 
characteristic,  while  covering  every  good  quality, 
and  hence  for  the  Christian  it  is  not  so  suitable  as 
the  accepted  modification. 


Expression — The  Ideal  89 

Among  the  Greeks,  ideal  types  of  the  gods  and 
goddesses  other  than  Zeus  varied  considerably. 
Those  representations  that  have  come  down  to  us 
are  usually  deviations  from  the  Zeus  type  with  cer- 
tain special  characteristics,  though  often  they  can 
only  be  distinguished  from  each  other  by  symbols. 
They  are  above  human  life  and  so  cannot  be  appro- 
priately associated  with  human  surroundings.  Ideals 
appertaining  to  Christianity  are  practically  fixed  by 
convention,  or  are  interchangeable  with  ideals  in 
allegorical  and  symbolical  art. 

Art  is  not  concerned  with  what  are  termed  ideal 
physical  qualities  because  beauty  is  its  first  consid- 
eration. A  form  with  powerful  limbs  and  muscles 
may  be  generally  accepted  as  an  ideal  form  of 
strength,  but  these  very  limbs  and  muscles  would 
detract  from  the  beauty  of  the  figure,  and  so  sepa- 
rately such  a  form  would  be  inferior  art. 

An  ideal  can  only  be  applied  to  excellence.  In 
art,  moral  or  physical  deformity  cannot  be  exag- 
gerated for  the  purpose  of  emphasis  or  contrast  with- 
out lessening  the  deformity  or  injuring  the  art.  In 
the  work  of  the  greater  artists  the  former  result 
follows;  in  that  of  less  skilful  artists,  the  latter. 
Homer  could  not  deal  with  evil  characters  without 
exciting  a  certain  sympathy  with  them,  thus  dimin- 
ishing the  deformity  in  the  minds  of  his  readers. 
There  is  a  measure  of  nobility  about  Shakespeare's 
bad  men,  and  Milton  distinctly  ennobled  Satan  in 
portraying  his  evil  powers  and  influence.  In  painting 
and  sculpture  there  is  no  place  for  hideous  forms  of 
any  description,  for  they  either  revolt  the  imagina- 


90  Art  Principles 

tion  and  so  neutralize  the  appreciation  of  the  beauti- 
ful figures  present  in  the  composition,  or  they  verge 
upon  the  ridiculous  and  disturb  the  mind  with  coun- 
teracting influences.  With  rare  exceptions  the 
greater  artists  have  not  failed  to  recognize  this  truth,  ^^ 
and  in  respect  of  the  very  greatest  men,  no  really 
hideous  figure  is  to  be  found  in  any  of  their  works,  if 
we  except  certain  instances  where  the  artist  had  to 
comply  with  fixed  rules  and  conditions,  as  for  example 
in  Michelangelo's  Last  Judgment  where  evil  beings 
had  perforce  to  be  presented,  and  could  only  be 
shown  as  deformities. 

Attempts  to  emphasize  ugliness  by  artists  of  in- 
ferior rank  result  in  the  fantastic  or  the  ludicrous, 
as  in  the  representation  of  evil  spirits  on  the  old 
Etruscan  tombs,  and  the  whimsical  imps  of  the 
Breughels  and  the  younger  Teniers. 


CHAPTER  VII 

EXPRESSION.       PART  II. — CHRISTIAN  IDEALS 

The  Deity — Christ — The  Madonna — The  Madonna  and  Child. 

In  considering  the  scope  for  the  exhibition  of  ideals 
in  art,  it  should  be  remembered  that  ideal  types  of 
some  of  the  principal  personages  in  religious  and 
mythological  history  have  been  already  fixed  by 
great  artists,  and  it  is  impossible  to  depart  from  them 
without  producing  what  would  appear  to  be  abnor- 
mal representations.  Homer  led  the  way  with  occa- 
sional hints  of  the  presumed  physical  appearance  of 
some  of  the  leading  deities  of  Greece,  and  except  in 
the  case  of  Aphrodite  the  later  Grecian  sculptors 
closely  followed  him.  The  Zeus  of  Homer  as  im- 
proved by  Phidias  has  been  the  model  of  this  deity 
in  respect  of  form  for  nearly  every  succeeding  sculp- 
tor to  this  day,  while  it  was  also  the  model  which 
suggested  the  Christian  Father  as  represented  by  the 
first  artists  of  the  Renaissance,  though,  as  already 
indicated,  the  majestic  dignity  of  the  Phidian  Zeus 
was  partly  sacrificed  by  the  Christian  artists.  Phid- 
ias in  fact  created  a  type  which,  so  far  as  human 
foresight  can  judge,  must  ever  guide  the  artistic 
mind,  whether  portraying  the  mighty  son  of  Kronos, 

91 


92  Art  Principles 

or  the  God  of  the  Christians.  Only  very  rarely  nowa- 
days is  the  Christian  Deity  pictured  in  art,  and  as 
time  goes  on  His  introduction  in  human  shape  in  a 
painting  will  become  still  more  rare  in  conformity 
with  changing  religious  ideas  and  practices ;  but  now 
and  hereafter  any  artist  who  contemplates  the  repre- 
sentation, must,  voluntarily  or  involuntarily,  turn 
to  the  frescoes  of  Raphael  and  Michelangelo  for  his 
guide. 

There  is  no  tradition  upon  which  to  base  an  actual 
portrait  of  Christ.  For  the  first  four  centuries  a.d., 
when  He  was  represented  in  art,  it  was  usually  by 
means  of  S3mibols,  or  as  a  young  man  without  beard, 
but  there  are  some  Roman  relics  of  the  fifth  century 
remaining  in  which  He  is  depicted  much  in  the  later 
generally  accepted  type,  with  short  beard  and  flowing 
hair.  During  the  long  centuries  of  the  Dark  Age, 
when  religious  art  was  practically  confined  to  the 
Byzantine  Greeks,  Christ  was  almost  invariably 
portrayed  with  a  long  face  and  emaciated  features 
and  limbs,  as  the  epitome  of  sadness  and  sorrow. 
This  expression  was  modified  as  the  arts  travelled  to 
the  north  and  west  of  Europe,  and  gradually  His 
face  began  to  assume  more  regularity  and  beauty. 
Then  came  Cimabue  to  sow  the  seed  of  the  Renais- 
sance, and  with  him  the  ideal  of  Christ  was  changed 
to  a  perfect  man  of  flesh  and  blood.  A  century  or 
more  was  occupied  in  establishing  this  ideal,  but  it 
was  so  established,  and  has  maintained  its  position 
to  this  day.  ^^ 

This  ideal  represents  the  Saviour  as  a  man  of  about 
thirty-three  years — His  age  at  the  Crucifixion.     He 


PLATE    9 


Raphael's  Virgin  of  the  Rose  with  the  Face  of  "  Profane  Love  "  in  Titian's  Picture 
Substituted  for  that  of  the  Virgin  (See  page  1.38) 


Expression — Christian  Ideals  93 

wears  flowing  hair  with  a  short  beard  and  usually  a 
moustache.  His  face  is  rather  long,  often  oval;  the 
features  have  a  perfect  regularity,  and  the  expression 
is  commonly  one  of  patient  resignation.  Naturally 
His  body  must  appear  well  nourished,  otherwise 
corporeal  beauty  cannot  be  expressed.  This  is  the 
type  which  has  been  used  since  the  height  of  the 
Renaissance,  though  there  have  been  a  few  excep- 
tional representations.  Thus,  the  face  of  Christ  in 
Lionardo's  Last  Supper  at  Milan  is  that  of  a  beard- 
less young  man  of  some  twenty-five  years*  and 
Raphael  in  an  early  picture  shows  Him  beardless,  but 
gives  Him  an  age  of  about  thirty.*'  Some  early 
Flemish  artists  also  rendered  Him  beardless  at  times, 
notably  the  Maitre  de  Flemalle,  Van  der  Weyden,  and 
Quentin  Matsys.  Michelangelo  in  his  Last  Judgment 
represents  the  Saviour  sitting  in  judgment  as  a  robust, 
stern,  commanding  figure,  beardless,  and  with  an 
expression  and  bearing  apparently  serving  the  idea 
of  Justice. °  Strange  to  say  the  artist  gives  a  very 
similar  face  to  St.  Stephen  in  the  same  series  of 
frescoes.  A  still  more  unusual  representation  is  that 
of  Francisco  di  Giorgio,  who  gives  Christ  the  appear- 
ance of  an  Apollo,"^  while  Bramantino  depicts  His 
face  worn  with  heavy  lines. *  In  one  picture  Marco 
Basaiti  shows  Him  as  a  young  man  with  long  hair 
but  without  beard,  and  in  another  with  a  thick  beard 

a  And  in  the  drawing  for  the  picture  at  the  Brera. 
t>  Christ  Blessing  at  the  Brescia  Gallery, 
c  In  the  Sistine  Chapel  frescoes. 

d  Christ   bereft  of    His   clothes   before    the    Crucifixion,   Sienna 
Academy. 

e  Christ,  Mayno  Collection. 


94  Art  Principles 

without  moustache.*  There  was  considerable  varia- 
tion in  the  type  among  the  Venetians  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  but  not  in  important  features,  and  since  then 
very  few  artists  indeed  have  ventured  to  depart  from 
the  ideal  above  described.  The  only  notable  excep- 
tion in  recent  times  is  in  a  work  by  Bume- Jones  who 
represents  Christ  as  a  beardless  youth,  though  indi- 
cating the  wound  to  St.  Thomas.^  It  is  supposed 
that  the  artist  presumed  that  the  Person  of  Christ 
underwent  a  complete  change  after  the  Resurrection. 
It  is  evident  that  the  ideal  Christ  as  established 
by  the  Italians  can  scarcely  be  improved  upon  in  art 
within  the  prescribed  limitations.  Christ  having 
lived  as  an  actual  man,  His  representation  must  be 
within  the  bounds  of  possible  experience;  and  since 
He  died  at  the  age  of  thirty-three,  intellectual  power 
cannot  be  suggested  in  His  countenance,  for  this  in 
life  means  an  expression  implying  large  experience 
warranted  only  by  mature  age.  The  representation  is 
therefore  confined  to  that  of  a  man  who,  while  ex- 
hibiting a  healthy  regularity  of  form  and  feature,  has 
lost  all  sense  of  earthly  pleasure.  The  beauty 
achieved  by  this  type  is  negative,  the  only  marked 
quality  being  a  suggestion  of  sadness  which,  in  paint- 
ing, is  necessarily  present  in  all  expression  where  an 
unconcern  with  human  instincts  and  passions  is  de- 
picted. The  Italians  in  their  representation  of  Christ 
were  thus  unable  to  reach  the  height  of  the  Greek 
divine  portrayals.    They  were  confined  to  earth,  while 

a  The  Dead  Christ,  ^nd  Calling  of  the  Children  of  Zebedee, 
Academy,  Venice. 
t>  Dies  Domini. 


Expression — Christian  Ideals         95 

the  Greek  figures  were  symbols  of  spiritual  forms 
which  were  pure  products  of  the  imagination. 
Giotto  and  his  successors  sought  a  physically  perfect 
man  with  all  purely  human  features  in  expression 
eliminated.  The  Greeks,  even  when  representing 
divinities  below  Zeus,  generalized  all  human  attri- 
butes, excluding  nothing  but  the  exceptional.  They 
embodied  in  their  forms,  truths  acknowledged  by  the 
whole  world ;  summed  up  human  life  to  the  content- 
ment of  all  men :  there  was  nothing  in  their  divinities 
which  would  prevent  their  acceptance  as  spiritual 
symbols  in  all  religions  of  civilized  peoples.  To  them 
human  instincts  were  sacred:  all  human  passions 
could  be  ennobled:  everything  in  the  natural  pro- 
gression of  life  came  within  the  purview,  and  under 
the  protection,  of  the  gods.  So  the  course  of  their 
art  was  definite:  there  was  never  a  difference  as  to 
the  goal,  for  it  was  universal. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  the  development  of  art 
the  ideal  Christ  has  been  of  Httle  importance  com- 
pared with  the  ideal  Madonna,  though  here  also  the 
Italians  aimed  for  a  particular  instead  of  a  general 
type.  They  wanted  a  living  woman  with  the  form 
and  features  of  a  pulsating  mother;  a  woman  of 
ordinary  life  in  fact,  but  infinitely  superior  in  physi- 
cal beauty,  and  endowed  with  the  highest  grace  that 
their  imaginations  could  conceive  and  their  hands 
execute.  This  ideal  seemed  to  germinate  with  Cima- 
bue,  but  an  immense  advance  upon  him  was  made 
by  Giotto  who  was  unsurpassed  in  the  representation 
of  the  Holy  Mother  for  more  than  a  century.  But 
the  ideal  was  yet  purely  formal  and  continued  so  till 


96  Art  Principles 

past  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  both  in 
Italy  and  Flanders.  Giotto  was  then  excelled  by 
many  artists,  but  the  Madonnas  they  produced, 
though  often  very  beautiful,  are  not  humanly  attrac- 
tive. They  are  on  the  side  of  the  Angels;  have  never 
been  women  evidently,  and  are  far,  far  away  from 
the  human  type  with  tingling  veins  and  heaving 
breath.  Filippo  Lippi  marked  the  border  line  be- 
tween this  type  of  Madonna,  and  the  advanced 
pattern  produced  by  the  series  of  great  artists  of  the 
latter  part  of  the  fifteenth  century.  But  with  Lion- 
ardo,  Ghirlandaio,  Botticelli,  and  the  rest,  the 
Madonna  was  scarcely  an  ideal  woman.  Living 
persons  were  commonly  taken  as  models,  and  al- 
though the  portraits  were  no  doubt  "improved," 
they  have  little  connection  with  the  ideal  which  the 
artists  evidently  had  in  mind.  The  very  life  which 
the  artist  transfers  to  canvas  in  a  portrait  is  destruc- 
tive of  the  ideal,  for  it  is  a  particular  life  with  evi- 
dence of  particular  emotions  and  passions  from  which 
the  Madonna  should  be  free. 

A  mighty  barrier  must  be  passed  before  a  woman 
is  translated  on  canvas  into  the  type  of  Madonna 
sought  by  the  first  Renaissance  artists.  She  must 
be  a  woman  of  the  earth;  a  woman  who  has  grown 
up  amidst  human  surroundings  from  infancy  to  girl- 
hood, and  from  girlhood  to  womanhood;  with  human 
aspirations  and  sympathies,  and  experience  of  joys 
and  trials :  she  must  have  all  these,  and  as  well  have 
become  a  mother;  and  yet  with  human  beauty,  her 
countenance  must  be  such  that  by  no  stretch  of  the 
imagination  can  the  possibility  of  desire  be  suggested. 


Expression — Christian  Ideals         97 

This  was  the  problem,  and  certainly  only  a  genius  of 
the  highest  order  could  arrive  at  a  solution,  for  the 
task  appears  on  the  face  of  it  to  be  almost  super- 
human. But  Raphael  succeeded  in  accomplishing 
it,  and  his  achievement  will  stand  for  all  time  as  one 
of  the  greatest  epoch-making  events  in  history. 
Even  Michelangelo,  who  created  so  many  superb 
forms,  never  succeeded  with  an  ideal  suitable  for  a 
Madonna.^' 

It  is  clear  that  in  reaching  for  his  ideal,  Raphael 
did  not  strive  for  an  expression  relating  to  the  spiri- 
tual. His  purpose  was  to  eliminate  from  the  features 
anything  which  might  possibly  be  construed  as  in- 
dicating earthly  desires,  and  yet  retain  the  highest 
conceivable  human  beauty.  With  this  double  object 
contentment  is  a  quality  in  expression  which  is  in- 
dispensable, and  this  Raphael  was  careful  to  give, 
sometimes  emphasizing  it  with  a  suggestion  of  happi- 
ness. It  is  not  possible  to  go  further  with  an  expres- 
sion which  is  to  generalize  the  highest  human  physical 
and  abstract  qualities,  while  keeping  the  figure 
within  the  range  of  apparent  feasible  realization  in 
life.  The  result  was  ideal  but  not  exclusive.  It  is  a 
universal  type,  and  is  suited  to  the  Madonna  because 
there  is  nothing  humanly  higher  within  our  compre- 
hension ;  but  it  has  a  further  general  import  which 
is  dealt  with  elsewhere. 

Although  the  aim  achieved  by  Raphael  must 
necessarily  be  the  goal  of  all  artists  in  the  representa- 
tion of  the  Madonna,  it  is  of  course  not  essential 
that  he  should  be  accepted  as  the  only  guide  to  her 
form.    Her  features  may  vary  indefinitely  so  long  as 


98  Art  Principles 

the  ideal  is  maintained,  and  Raphael  himself  painted 
no  two  Madonnas  with  the  same  features.  But  cer- 
tain traditions  must  be  observed,  however  much  one 
may  depart  from  the  actual  circumstances  of  her 
life.  The  first  is  in  respect  of  her  presumed  age.  In 
pictures  dealing  with  her  life  soon  after  marriage, 
as  for  instance,  the  Nativity  and  the  Flight  into 
Egypt,  the  Madonna  is  invariably  represented  as 
many  years  older  than  she  appears  in  Annunciation 
subjects,  though  only  a  year  or  so  actually  passed 
between  the  respective  events.  The  reason  for  this  is 
obvious.  She  must  be  shown  with  the  bloom  of  a 
matured  woman.  The  highest  form  of  nobility  can- 
not be  disassociated  from  wisdom  and  experience, 
which  could  not  be  indicated  in  the  countenance  of 
a  girl  in  her  teens.  Innocence  and  purity  may  be 
present,  and  a  certain  majesty  even,  but  our  con- 
ception of  the  Madonna  as  a  woman  involves  the 
triumph  over  known  evils,  the  full  knowledge  of 
right  and  wrong,  and  the  consciousness  of  a  supreme 
position  above  the  possibility  of  sin.  Hence  in  all 
representations  of  the  Madonna  at  the  Nativity  and 
afterwards,  she  must  be  shown  at  an  age  suggesting 
the  fullest  knowledge  of  good  and  evil. 

While,  between  the  Annunciation  and  incidents 
occurring  during  the  infancy  of  Christ,  many  years 
must  be  presumed  to  have  passed,  from  this  latter 
period  on,  the  Madonna  must  be  supposed  to  have 
aged  very  little,  if  at  all,  right  up  to  the  Crucifixion. 
It  is  not  often  that  we  find  her  included  in  a  design 
illustrating  the  life  of  Christ  between  His  infancy  and 
the  Death  Scene,  a  fact  probably  due  to  the  age 


Expression — Christian  Ideals  99 

difficulty.  In  the  exceptions  her  face  is  often  partly 
or  wholly  hidden.  But  in  scenes  of  the  Crucifixion, 
where  the  Virgin  is  almost  invariably  introduced, 
artists  of  all  periods,  with  few  exceptions,  have  been 
careful  to  avoid  suggesting  the  full  presumed  age. 
Commonly  the  age  indicated  is  between  twenty-five 
and  thirty  years,  but  as  the  face  is  always  pale,  and 
often  somewhat  drawn,  her  comparatively  youthful 
appearance  is  not  conspicuous.  Obviously  under  no 
circumstances  should  lines  be  present  in  the  features, 
for  this  would  suggest  a  physical  decay  not  in  con- 
formity with  Christian  ideas.''"  Even  in  pictures 
relating  to  her  death,  which  is  presumed  to  have 
occurred  at  an  age  between  fifty  and  sixty  years,  her 
face  is  shown  with  perfectly  regular  and  smooth 
features,  though  an  extreme  pallor  may  be  painted. 
But  from  the  point  of  view  of  art,  the  Virgin  must 
be  regarded  as  an  accessory  in  works  relating  to 
the  Crucifixion,  for  to  throw  her  into  prominence 
would  result  in  dividing  the  attention  of  the  ob- 
server of  the  picture  on  first  inspection,  and  so 
lessening  the  art.  In  any  case  she  must  be  painted 
with  an  expression  of  grief,  and  hence  an  unal- 
loyed ideal  of  transcendent  beauty  is  out  of  the 
question. 

The  custom  of  representing  the  Madonna  in  cos- 
tume and  surroundings  indicating  a  higher  social 
level  than  that  in  which  she  actually  moved,  is  now 
firmly  established,  and  cannot  be  departed  from 
without  lowering  the  ideal.  A  woman  in  a  lowly 
position  of  life,  who  is  compelled  to  bear  all  the  re- 
sponsibilities of  a  home,  with  the  care  of  a  husband 


loo  Art  Principles 

and  child,  is  seldom  seen  except  in  the  performance  of 
household  duties.  We  cannot  see  her  without  asso- 
ciating her  in  our  minds  with  toil  and  possible  priva- 
tion, and  we  naturally  expect  that  the  effect  of  these 
will  be  indicated  in  her  expression  and  general  bear- 
ing. If  away  from  her  home  her  costume  would 
usually  declare  her  position,  while  habits  of  mind 
connected  with  her  daily  occupation  commonly  en- 
gender mannerisms  in  air  and  gait  which  support  the 
inference  drawn  from  the  character  of  her  attire.  It 
would  appear  anomalous  to  paint  a  woman  so  situ- 
ated with  such  beauty  of  form  and  expression  that 
she  appears  to  have  never  experienced  earthly  cares 
of  any  kind,  much  less  the  long  repeated  daily  worries 
consequent  upon  the  charge  of  a  poor  household. 
Perfect  beauty  of  form  being  essential  in  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  Madonna,  she  must  be  painted 
amidst  surroundings  conformable  with  the  sup- 
position that  she  is  free  from  earthly  responsi- 
bilities, and  that  her  mind  is  entirely  occupied 
with  the  boundless  joy  and  happiness  arising  from 
the  contemplation  of  the  divine  Mission  of  her 
Son.'*' 

The  difficulty  in  painting  the  Madonna  is  com- 
plicated when  the  Infant  Christ  is  introduced,  be- 
cause of  the  liability  of  the  Child  to  interfere  with  a 
fine  presentation  of  her  figure.  A  similar  problem 
was  met  with  by  the  early  Greeks,  and  doubtless 
they  dealt  with  it  in  their  paintings  as  in  their  sculp- 
tures, a  few  of  which,  showing  an  adult  holding  a 
child,  have  come  down  to  us.  These  represent  the 
child  reduced  in  size  as  far  as  possible,  and  carried 


Expression — Christian  Ideals        loi 

at  the  side  of  the  adult  figure.^  A  Hke  system  was 
followed  by  most  of  the  Byzantine  workers,  and  it  is 
very  noticeable  in  some  of  the  fine  French  sculpture 
of  the  thirteenth  century.^  In  the  same  period 
Giovanni  Pisano  in  sculpture,'^  and  Cimabue  in 
painting,*^  maintained  the  tradition  in  Italy,  and 
in  the  century  following,  Giotto,^  Duccio,^  Loren- 
zetto,^  and  others,  often  adopted  the  plan.  Towards 
the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  the  relative  im- 
portance attached  to  the  Child  in  the  group  gen- 
erally increased,  and  by  the  end  of  it,  the  old  practice 
had  been  almost  entirely  abandoned.  Meanwhile  the 
artists  had  some  hard  problems  to  meet.  The  first 
was  as  to  the  size  of  the  Child.  It  appeared  to  be 
generally  agreed  that  an  older  Child  should  be  repre- 
sented than  had  been  the  custom,  though  a  few 
artists  held  back,  notably  Fra  Angelico,  while  in 
sculpture,  Donatello  maintained  his  habit  of  mould- 
ing the  Child  as  only  a  few  weeks  old.  With  an  in- 
creased age  of  the  Child,  the  difficulty  of  securing 
repose  for  the  group  was  enhanced,  for  it  seemed  to  be 
proper  with  a  child  past  its  infancy,  that  it  should  be 
pictured  as  engaged  in  one  of  the  charming  simple 
actions  common  to  childhood.  These  questions  were 
settled  in  different  ways  according  to  the  genius  and 

a  See  the  Olympian  Hermes  of  Praxiteles,  and  Irene  and  Pluto 
after  Cephisodostus  at  Munich. 

t>  Groups  in  the  Southern  and  Western  porches  of  Amiens  Cathe- 
dral. 

c  Madonna  and  Child,  Arena  Chapel,  Padua. 

d  Groups  at  the  Florence  Academy  and  the  Louvre. 

e  Florence  Academy.  f  National  Gallery,  London. 

8  San  Francisco,  Assisi. 


102  Art  Principles 

temperament  of  the  artists.  A  few  of  them,  as  Man- 
tegna,^  Lorenzo  Costa,''  and  Montagna,*^  gave  the 
Child  an  age  of  two  years  or  more,  and  in  some  of 
their  designs  the  figures  seem  to  be  of  equal  signifi- 
cance, Mantegna  and  Montagna  in  several  examples 
actually  standing  the  Child  in  the  Virgin's  lap  with 
the  heads  touching  each  other. 

The  plans  usually  adopted  by  the  greatest  masters, 
were,  to  present  the  maximum  repose  with  the  Child 
sitting  in  the  lap  of  the  Virgin ;  or  to  place  Him  apart 
from  her,  and  engaged  in  some  slight  action;  or  to 
show  Him  in  the  arms  of  the  Virgin,  either  held  at 
the  side,  or  in  front,  with  the  Virgin  more  or  less  in 
profile.  In  all  of  these  schemes  the  serene  contem- 
plation of  the  Holy  Mother  is  practically  undisturbed. 
In  his  many  groups  of  the  Virgin  and  Child,  and  of 
the  Holy  Family,  Raphael  only  varied  twice  from 
these  plans,*^  and  in  both  the  exceptions  the  Child 
reclines 'across  the  lap  of  the  Virgin,  so  that  very 
little  of  her  figure  is  hidden.  Titian  has  the  Child 
standing  by  her  side,^  or  held  away  from  her,  and 
in  one  example  the  Virgin  is  placing  Him  in  the  hands 
of  St.  Joseph.^  Correggio,  when  away  from  the 
influence  of  Mantegna,  usually  showed  the  Child 
held  apart  from  the  Mother,  or  placed  on  the  floor, 
or  on  a  bench.     It  is  a  common  device  to  show  the 

a  Madonna  and  Angels,  at  Milan,  and  other  works, 
b  Coronation  of  the  Virgin,  Bologna. 
c  Enthronement  of  the  Virgin,  Brera,  Milan. 

<i  Madonna   and  Child,  Bridgewater  Coll.,  England;   and  same 
group  with  St.  John,  Berlin. 

e  Madonna  of  the  Cherries,  Imperial  Gallery,  Vienna. 

f  Meeting  of  Joachim  and  Anna,  Bridgwater  Coll.,  England. 


PLATE    10 


"^TW 


Raphael's  Holy  Family  (Madrid),  with  the  Face  of  Luini's  Salome  Substituted  for 

that  of  the  Virgin  (See  page  130) 


Expression — Christian  Ideals        103 

Child  on  the  lap  of  the  Virgin,  but  leaning  over  to 
take  a  flower  or  other  object  offered  Him,^  and  numer- 
ous artists  allow  Him  to  play  around  separately.^ 
In  Holbein's  fine  group  at  Augsburg,  the  Child  stands 
between  the  Virgin  and  St.  Anne,  and  another  Ger- 
man painter  shows  Him  held  up  by  the  same  per- 
sonages, but  clear  from  both  of  them.'^  Murillo 
commonly  stands  the  Child  at  the  side  of  the  Virgin, 
but  in  one  picture  adopts  the  novel  method  of  placing 
Him  in  the  arms  of  St.  Joseph.*^ 

When  the  Child  is  shown  distinctly  apart  from  the 
Virgin,  or  leaning  away  from  her  lap,  great  care  is 
necessary  in  avoiding  strength  in  the  action,  other- 
wise it  will  draw  attention  away  from  the  Virgin.  A 
notable  example  of  this  defect  is  in  a  picture  by  Par- 
migiano,  where  the  Child  leans  over  and  has  his  head 
brought  close  to  that  of  a  kneeling  Saint  who  is 
caressing  Him,  the  effect  being  most  disturbing.^ 
Bramantino  shows  the  Child  in  an  extraordinary 
attitude,  for  He  holds  His  head  above  His  arms 
without  any  apparent  reason,  the  action  confusing 
the  dcvsign.  Many  artists  represent  Him  in  the  act 
of  reaching  out  his  hand  for  flowers,  without  choosing 
for  the  moment  of  portrayal,  an  instant  of  transition 
from  one  part  of  the  action  to  another,^  a  point 

a  Filipino  Lippi's  Madonna  and  Angels,  Corsini  Palace,  Florence, 
b  Luca  Signorelli's  group  at  Munich,  and  Bonfiglio's  at  Perugia, 
c  Hans  Fries,  National  Museum,  Nuremburg. 
d  Holy  Family,  Petrograd. 

e  Madonna  and  Child  with  Saints,  Bologna  Academy, 
f  Virgin  with  a  Turban,  Brera,  Milan. 

8  As  in  B.  da  Bagnacavallo's  Holy  Family,  Bologna;  and  Bol- 
traffio's  Holy  Family,  Milan. 


104  Art  Principles 

rarely  overlooked  by  the  first  masters.^  Occasion- 
ally variety  is  given  in  the  introduction  of  nursery 
duties,  as  for  instance,  washing  the  Child,''  but  these 
are  inappropriate  for  reasons  already  indicated,  apart 
from  the  over  strong  action  necessarily  exhibited  in 
such  designs.  Nor  should  the  Child  have  an  unusual 
expression,  as  this  will  immediately  catch  the  eye  of 
the  observer.  In  one  work  Del  Sarto  actually  makes 
Him  laugh, ^  and  a  modern  artist  gives  Him  an 
expression  of  fear.*^  It  is  questionable  whether 
MasaccioS  and  others  (including  A.  della  Robbia 
and  Rossellino  in  sculpture)  did  not  go  too  far  in 
portraying  the  Child  with  a  finger  in  its  mouth,  for 
although  such  an  incident  is  common  with  children, 
in  this  case  it  seems  opposed  to  propriety.  Generally 
the  first  artists  have  striven  to  free  the  figure  of  the 
Virgin  as  far  as  possible,  and  this  is  in  conformity 
with  first  principles,  for  it  simplifies  the  view  of  the 
chief  figure  in  the  composition.  In  all  cases  repose 
should  be  the  keynote  of  the  design. 

There  are  no  general  ideals  in  Christian  art  other 
than  those  mentioned.  The  presumed  occupants  of 
the  Celestial  regions  beyond  these  Personages,  are 
painted  as  the  fancy  of  the  artist  may  dictate,  sub- 
ject only  to  the  limitations  of  the  accepted  Christian 
doctrines.  There  are  certain  conventions  in  respect 
of  Angels  and  Saints,  but  they  are  by  no  means  strict ; 

a  See  Titian's  Madonna  with  SS.  Anthony  and  John,  Uffizi 
Gallery. 

b  Giulio  Romano's  Holy  Family,  Dresden. 

c  Holy  Family,  Hermitage,  Petrograd. 

<i  Uhde's  The  Three  Magi,  Magdeburg  Museum. 

e  Madonna  enthroned,  Sutton  Coll.,  England. 


Expression — Christian  Ideals        105 

and  for  the  Old  Testament  prophets,  Michelangelo's 
work  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  is  commonly  taken  as  a 
guide.  It  is  scarcely  likely  that  his  examples  will  ever 
be  exceeded  in  majestic  beauty. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

EXPRESSION.       PART   III. CLASSICAL    IDEALS 

Ideals  of  the  Greeks — Aphrodite — Hera — Demeter — Athena — Apollo 
— Diana — Neptune — Mars — Mercury — Bacchus — Vulcan — Gen- 
eral classical  compositions. 

What  human  being  can  appropriately  describe 
the  great  ideals  in  art  of  ancient  Greece?  Above  us 
all  they  stand,  seemingly  as  upon  the  pinnacle  of  the 
universal  mind,  reflecting  the  collective  human 
soul,  and  exhibiting  the  concentrated  essence  of 
human  nature.  The  best  of  men  and  women  of  all 
ages  is  combined  in  these  ideal  heads,  which  look 
from  an  endless  past  to  an  eternal  future;  which 
embody  every  passion  and  every  virtue;  every  re- 
ligion and  every  philosophy;  all  wisdom  and  all 
knowledge.  They  are  ideal  gods  and  goddesses, 
but  are  independent  of  legends  and  history.  They 
represent  no  mythological  deities  except  in  name, 
and  least  of  all  do  they  assort  with  the  deities  of 
Homer  and  Hesiod.  In  all  other  religions  the  ideals 
expressed  in  art  fail  entirely  to  reach  the  height  of 
the  general  conceptions,  and  are  far  below  the  spiri- 
tual beings  as  depicted  in  the  sacred  books;  but 
the  Grecian  ideals  as  recorded  in  stone  are  so  far 
beyond  the  legendary  gods  of  the  ancient  poets, 

io6 


Expression — Classical  Ideals        107 

that  we  are  unable  to  pass  from  the  stone  to  the 
Hterature  without  an  overwhelming  feeling  of  aston- 
ishment at  the  contrast.  It  is  unfortunate  that  we 
are  powerless  to  re-establish  these  ideals  definitely, 
for  the  originals  have  been  mostly  lost ;  nevertheless 
the  ancient  copies,  a  few  contemporary  complete 
sculptures,  and  many  glorious  fragments;  as  well  as 
intimate  descriptions  and  repeated  eulogies,  often 
reaching  to  hyperbole,  of  eminent  men,  expressed 
over  a  succession  of  centuries  when  the  great  works 
were  still  exposed  to  view — all  this  assembled  evi- 
dence indelibly  stamps  upon  our  minds  the  nature 
of  the  ideals;  gives  us  a  clear  impression  of  the  most 
profound  conceptions  that  have  emanated  from  the 
human  brain. 

The  people  who  accomplished  these  great  monu- 
ments seem  to  have  thought  only  in  terms  of  the 
universe.  They  did  not  seek  for  the  embodiment 
of  goodness,  nobility,  and  charity,  perfection  in 
which  qualities  we  regard  as  divine,  but  they  aimed 
at  a  majesty  which  included  all  these  things ;  which 
comprehended  nothing  but  the  supreme  in  form  and 
mind;  and  with  an  all-reaching  knowledge  of  the 
human  race,  stood  outside  of  it,  but  covered  it  with 
reflected  glory,  as  the  sun  stands  ever  away  from 
the  planets  but  illumines  them  all.  The  wonder  is 
not  that  these  ideals  were  created  in  the  minds  of 
the  Greeks,  for  there  is  no  boundary  to  the  imagina- 
tion, but  that  minds  could  be  found  to  set  them 
down  in  design,  and  hands  to  mould  and  shape  them 
in  clay  and  stone;  and  that  many  minds  and  hands 
could  do  these  things  in  the  same  epoch.     That  these 


io8  Art  Principles 

sculptured  forms  have  never  been  equalled  is  not 
wonderful;  that  they  never  will  be  surpassed  is  as 
certain  as  that  death  is  the  penalty  of  life.  So 
firmly  have  they  become  grafted  into  the  minds  of 
men  as  things  unapproachable  in  beauty,  that  they 
have  themselves  been  converted  into  general  ideals 
towards  which  all  must  climb  who  attempt  to  scale 
the  heights  of  art.  The  greatest  artists  known  to 
us  since  the  light  of  Greek  intelligence  flickered 
away,  have  been  content  to  study  these  marble 
remains,  and  to  cull  from  them  a  suggestion  here, 
and  an  idea  there,  with  which  to  adorn  their  own 
creations.  Indeed  it  is  clear  that  from  the  time  of 
Niccolo  Pisano,  who  leaped  at  one  bound  to  celeb- 
rity after  studying  the  antique  sculptures  at  Pisa, 
through  Giotto  to  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  century 
giants,  there  was  hardly  a  great  artist  who  was  not 
more  or  less  dependent  upon  Grecian  art  for  his 
skill,  and  the  most  enduring  of  them  all — Donatello, 
Raphael,  Michelangelo,  Titian,  Correggio — were 
the  most  deeply  versed  in  the  art. ''^ 

Bellori  affirmed  that  the  Roman  school,  of  which 
Raphael  and  Michelangelo  were  the  greatest  masters, 
derived  its  principles  from  the  study  of  the  statues 
and  other  works  of  the  ancients.^  This  is  not  strictly 
exact,  but  it  is  near  the  truth,  and  certain  it  is  that 
Michelangelo,  the  first  sculptor  known  to  the  world 
since  the  Dark  Age,  willingly  bowed  his  head  before 
the  ancient  triumphs  of  art  presented  to  his  view. 
And  yet  he  did  not  see  the  Parthenon  sculptures 
and  other  numerous  works  of  the  time  of  Phidias, 

a  Le  Vite  de'  Pittori,  Scultori,  e  Architteti  moderni. 


Expression — Classical  Ideals        109 

with  the  many  beautiful  examples  of  the  next  cen- 
tury which  have  been  made  available  since  his  day. 
What  he  would  have  said  in  the  presence  of  the 
glories  of  the  Parthenon,  with  the  Hermes  of  Praxi- 
teles and  the  rest  of  the  collection  from  Olympia, 
is  hard  to  conjecture,  though  it  may  well  be  sug- 
gested that  they  would  have  prompted  him  to  still 
higher  work  than  any  he  accomplished.  With  these 
stupendous  ideals  in  front  of  us,  it  seems  almost 
unnecessary  to  talk  of  the  principles  of  art.  Their 
very  perfection  indicates  that  they  were  built  up 
on  eternal  principles,  so  that  in  fact  and  in  theory 
they  form  the  surest  guide  for  the  sculptor  and 
painter. 

But  how  is  the  painter  to  use  these  ancient  gods 
and  goddesses,  for  the  time  has  gone  by  to  gather 
them  together  on  the  heights  of  Olympus,  or  to 
associate  them  with  human  frailties?  Surely  he 
may  leave  aside  the  fables  of  the  poets,  and  try  to 
portray  the  deities  as  the  Grecian  populace  saw  them 
in  their  hearts — noble  forms  of  adoration,  or  images 
of  terror,  objects  of  curses  veneered  with  prayer 
and  of  offerings  wrapped  in  fear.  The  artist  has 
not  now  to  be  troubled  with  pangs  of  dread,  nor  will 
his  imagination  be  limited  by  sacerdotal  scruples. 
The  rivalry  of  Praxiteles  need  not  concern  him,  for 
there  are  wondrous  ideals  yet  to  be  wrought,  which 
will  be  comprehended  and  loved  even  in  these  days 
of  hastening  endeavour.  But  the  painter  must 
leave  alone  the  Zeus  and  the  variation  of  this  god 
in  the  pictured  Christian  Deity,  for  the  type  is  so 
firmly  established  in  the  minds  of  men  that  it  would 


no  Art  Principles 

be  useless  to  depart  from  it.  The  other  important 
Grecian  deities  with  which  art  is  concerned  may  be 
shortly  considered  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
painter,  though  they  are  naturally  of  far  more  im- 
portance to  the  sculptor  because  it  is  beyond  the 
power  of  the  painter  to  suggest  an  illusion  of  divine 
form,  since  he  must  associate  his  figures  with  human 
accessories."^ 

APHRODITE 

Astarte,  Aphrodite,  Venus,  Spirit  of  Love,  or  by 
whatever  name  we  call  her ;  the  one  eternal  divinity 
recognized  by  all  ages,  all  races;  the  universal  es- 
sence whose  fragrance  intoxicates  every  soul:  the 
one  queen  before  whom  all  must  bow :  the  one  impe- 
rial autocrat  sure  of  everlasting  rule — sure  of  the 
devoted  allegiance  of  every  living  thing  to  the  end 
of  time!  Such  is  Aphrodite,  for  that  is  the  name 
under  which  we  seem  to  love  her  best — the  Aphro- 
dite of  the  Greeks,  without  the  vague  terrifying 
aspect  of'  Astarte,  or  the  more  earthly  qualities  of 
the  Roman  Venus.  Who  loves  not  the  Aphrodite 
sprung  from  the  foam  of  the  sea;  shading  the  sun 
on  the  Cytheran  isle  with  the  Hght  of  her  glory; 
casting  an  eternal  hallow  over  the  groves  of  Cyprus; 
flooding  the  god-like  mind  of  Greece  with  her  spark- 
hng  radiance?  What  conception  of  her  beauty  can 
rise  high  enough  when  the  grass  in  astonishment 
grows  beneath  her  feet  on  desert  rocks;  when  lions 
and  tigers  gently  purr  as  she  passes,  and  the  rose 
and  the  myrtle  throw  out  their  scented  blossoms  to 


Expression— Classical  Ideals        iii 

sweeten  the  air?  Hera  and  Athena  leave  the  heav- 
ens to  help  man  fight  and  kill:  Aphrodite  descends 
to  soothe  despairing  hearts,  and  kindle  kindly  flame 
in  the  breast  of  the  loveless.  The  spear  and  the 
shield  with  the  crested  helmet  she  knows  not,  nor 
the  fiery  coursers  accustomed  to  the  din  of  strife. 
Serenely  she  traverses  space  at  the  call  of  a  lover's 
prayer,  her  car  a  bower  of  celestial  blooms.  From 
the  ends  of  the  earth  fly  the  sparrows  to  draw  it, 
till  their  myriads  hide  the  sun,  and  mortals  learn 
that  the  time  has  come  when  their  thoughts  may 
turn  to  the  spirit  of  love. 

This  was  the  Aphrodite  of  Grecian  legend  and 
poetry,  if  we  except  Homer  and  Hesiod.  It  is  the 
type  of  the  goddess  whom  Sappho  implored,  and 
must  be  accepted  as  the  general  ideal  of  the  Grecian 
worshippers  who  desired  divine  mediation  when 
troubled  with  pangs  of  the  heart.  But  it  was  not 
the  type  of  Phidias  and  his  school,  for  Phidias  passed 
over  Hesiod  and  purified  Homer,  representing 
Aphrodite  with  the  stately  mien  and  lofty  bearing 
of  a  queen  of  heaven,  daughter  of  the  all-powerful 
Dione:  goddess  of  beauty  and  love  certainly,  but 
so  far  above  the  human  understanding  of  these  terms 
that  all  efforts  to  associate  her  with  mundane  ideas 
and  aspirations  must  signally  fail."'' 

So  far  as  we  know  it  was  Praxiteles  who  first  at- 
tempted to  realize  in  stone  the  popular  ideal  of  the 
goddess,  and  certainly  the  Cnidian  Aphrodite  was 
better  understood  by  the  people  of  Greece  as  a  type 
of  this  ideal  than  any  work  that  preceded  it.  We 
can  attach  to  it  in  our  minds  but  very  few  of  the 


112  Art  Principles 

Homeric  and  other  legends  surrounding  the  history 
of  the  goddess,  but  we  can  well  imagine  that  a  deity 
who  was  the  subject  of  so  much  attention  and  so 
much  prayer,  could  rest  in  the  hearts  of  the  people 
only  as  one  with  every  supreme  earthly  charm, 
combined  with  a  divine  bearing  and  dignity.  These 
qualities  the  Aphrodite  of  Praxiteles  appears  to 
have  possessed,  though  it  lacked  the  majesty  and 
exclusiveness  of  the  Parthenon  gods.  "^^ 

Thus  there  was  formed  a  type  of  beauty  accept- 
able to  the  average  human  mind  as  an  unsurpassable 
representation  of  an  ideal  woman:  to  the  worship- 
per at  the  ancient  shrines,  a  comprehensible  god- 
dess ;  to  all  other  men  the  personification  of  sublime 
beauty.  The  fifth  century  goddess  was  left  aside 
as  beyond  mortal  reach,  and  from  the  time  it  left 
the  sculptor's  hands  to  this  day,  the  Cnidian  Venus 
has  been  regarded  as  a  model  for  all  that  is  true 
and  beautiful  in  women.  To  the  sculptor  it  is  an 
everlasting  beacon;  to  all  men  a  crowning  glory  of 
human  handiwork.  And  this  notwithstanding  that 
so  far  as  we  know,  the  original  figure  has  long  been 
lost,  and  we  have  preserved  little  more  than  records 
of  its  renown,  a  fair  copy  of  it,  and  a  single  authentic 
example  of  the  other  work  of  the  sculptor.  But  if 
we  had  the  actual  Aphrodite  before  us,  it  could  not 
occupy  a  higher  place  in  our  minds  than  the  goddess 
which  our  imagination  builds  upon  this  framework. 

As  in  all  cases  where  a  supreme  artist  rises  above 
his  fellows  and  creates  works  of  which  emulation  ap- 
pears hopeless,  the  period  succeeding  the  time  of 
Praxiteles  seems  to  mark  a  decline  in  the  art  of 


Expression — Classical  Ideals        113 

sculpture,  and  though  the  decline  was  more  appar- 
ent than  real  for  about  half  a  century,  there  was 
naturally  a  depreciation  in  the  representation  of  the 
deities  of  whom  the  great  man  had  fashioned  master- 
pieces. This  was  so  in  the  case  of  Aphrodite.  Who- 
ever the  sculptor  it  seemed  impossible  to  approach 
the  Cnidian  ideal,  and  the  result  was  a  series  of 
variations  stamped  with  artificial  devices  as  if  to 
emphasize  the  departure.  But  meanwhile  the  paint- 
er's art  had  developed  upon  much  the  same  lines  as 
sculpture,  and  Apelles  produced  an  Aphrodite,  which, 
considering  the  limitation  of  the  painter,  appears  to 
have  been  almost,  if  not  quite,  as  marvellous  as  the 
stone  model  of  Praxiteles.  Nearly  two  thousand 
years  have  passed  since  the  painting  was  last  known 
to  exist,  but  its  fame  was  so  great  that  the  rever- 
berations from  the  thunder  of  praise  accorded  it 
have  scarcely  yet  died  away.  No  close  description 
of  the  painting  remains,  but  from  certain  refer- 
ences to  it  by  ancient  authors  we  know  that  it  rep- 
resented the  sea-born  goddess  walking  towards  the 
shore  to  make  her  first  appearance  on  earth,  holding 
in  each  hand  a  tress  of  hair  as  if  in  the  act  of  wring- 
ing out  the  water  therein. '♦^  These  are  practically 
all  the  written  details  we  have  of  the  famous  Venus 
Anadyomene,  but  we  really  know  much  more  of  it 
from  the  existence  of  certain  pre-Roman  sculptures. 
All  but  one  are  broken,  with  parts  missing,  but  the 
exception,  which  dates  from  about  the  beginning  of 
the  third  century  B.C.,  enables  us  to  gain  a  good  idea 
of  the  picture.  The  figure  represents  the  goddess 
with  her  lower  limbs  cut  off  close  to  the  hips ;  that 


114  Art  Principles 

is  to  say,  it  produces  the  whole  of  that  part  of  the 
figure  in  the  picture  of  Apelles  which  is  visible  above 
the  water.*  Clearly  a  subject  in  which  Venus  is 
shown  to  be  walking  in  the  sea,  so  foreign  to  the 
art  of  the  sculptor,  could  not  have  suggested  itself 
independently  to  a  Grecian  artist,  nor  would  we 
expect  to  find  one  attempting  a  work  which  neces- 
sitated amputation  of  the  lower  limbs,  unless  a  very 
special  occasion  warranted  the  design.  The  special 
occasion  in  this  case  was  the  picture  of  Apelles, 
which  was  at  the  time  renowned  through  the  whole 
of  Greece  as  an  extraordinary  masterpiece,  and  with 
this  work  in  their  minds  the  sculptured  head  and 
torso  would  appear  quite  appropriate  to  those 
Greeks  interested  in  the  arts,  that  is  to  say,  the 
entire  citizen  population. 

These  two  works  then,  the  Cnidian  Venus  and 
the  Venus  Anadyomene  of  Apelles,  constitute  the 
models  upon  which  the  world  relies  for  its  con- 
ceptions of  the  goddess  of  beauty.  Both  models 
depend  more  or  less  upon  the  imagination  for  com- 
pletion, but  they  are  sufficiently  definite  for  the 
artist,  who,  of  course,  desires  general  rather  than 
particular  ideas  for  his  purpose. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  attempts  to  rival 
Apelles  in  the  creation  of  a  Venus  Anadyomene  have 
not  been  very  successful.  Raphael  painted  a  small 
picture  of  the  subject,  introducing  the  figure  of 
Time  putting  an  end  to  the  power  of  the  Titans.'' 

a  See  Plate  4. 

^  In  the  bathroom  of  Cardinal  Bibiena,  Vatican.  There  is  a  drawing 
for  the  figure  of  the  goddess  at  the  Munich  Gallery. 


PLATE    11 


The  Pursuit,  by  Fragonard 
{Frick  Collection) 


(See  page  139) 


Expression — Classical  Ideals        115 

Venus  stands  in  the  water  with  one  foot  on  a  shell, 
while  holding  a  tress  of  hair  with  her  left  hand.  As 
may  be  expected  the  execution  is  perfect,  but  the 
design  is  less  attractive  than  that  of  Apelles.  The 
only  important  work  of  the  Renaissance  directly 
based  upon  the  Greek  design,  is  from  the  hand  of 
Titian.''  He  represents  the  goddess  walking  out 
of  the  water,  the  surface  of  which  only  reaches  half 
way  up  the  thighs,  with  the  result  that  considerably 
more  action  is  indicated  than  is  necessary.  But 
the  great  artist  was  evidently  at  a  loss  to  know  how 
to  give  the  figure  the  size  of  life  or  thereabouts, 
while  indicating  from  the  depth  of  water  that  she 
had  an  appreciable  distance  to  go  before  touching 
dry  land.  He  solved  the  problem  by  placing  the 
line  of  the  front  leg  to  which  the  water  rises,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  canvas,  so  that  the  picture  suggests 
an  accident  which  has  necessitated  the  cutting 
away  of  the  lower  portion  of  the  work.  The  master 
also  varies  the  scheme  of  Apelles  by  crossing  the 
left  hand  over  thebreast.  This  inferior  device  was 
imitated  by  Rubens,  who,  however,  exhibits  the 
goddess  rising  from  the  water  amongst  a  group  of 
nymphs  and  tritons.^  Modern  artists  in  designs  of 
the  birth  of  Venus,  usually  represent  her  as  having 
reached  the  shore,  ^  the  best  work  of  this  scheme 
being  perhaps  that  of  Cabanel  who  shows  the  god- 
dess lying  at  the  water's  edge  and  just  awaking, 
suggesting   a   state   of   unconsciousness   while   she 

a  Bridgewater  Coll.,  England.     See  Plate  5. 

t>  Birth  of  Venus,  at  Potsdam. 

c  Notable  examples  are  those  of  Ingres  and  Bouguereau. 


ii6  Art  Principles 

floated  on  the  waves.  ^  Another  exception  is  by 
Thoma,  who  exhibits  the  goddess  walking  in  only 
a  few  inches  of  water,  reminding  one  of  the  old 
Roman  bronze  workers  who  imitated  the  form 
as  painted  by  Apelles,  but  modelled  the  whole 
figure. 

Repose  being  the  first  compulsory  quality  in  the 
representation  of  Aphrodite,  it  is  not  surprising  to 
find  that  the  greatest  picture  of  the  goddess  extant 
— the  masterpiece  of  Giorgione — shows  her  asleep.^ 
She  rests  on  a  verdure  couch  in  a  landscape  of  which 
the  signs  indicate  a  soft  and  tranquil  atmosphere, 
with  no  suggestion  to  disturb  the  repose  or  remove 
the  illusion  of  life  so  strongly  marked  by  the  skilful 
drawing.  Only  the  calm  sleeping  beauty  is  there 
without  appearance  of  fatigue  or  recovery  from  it: 
no  expression  save  of  perfect  dreamless  unconscious- 
ness. The  work  is  the  nearest  approach  to  a  classical 
ideal  that  exists  in  Venetian  painting.  Titian  in 
his  various  pictures  of  Venus  reposing  never  reached 
the  excellence  of  his  master.  In  all,  he  painted  the 
goddess  in  a  resting  position,  sometimes  radiant 
and  brilliant,  and  invariably  with  a  contented  ex- 
pression which  precludes  sensual  suggestions:  still 
there  is  ever  a  distinctly  earthy  tone  about  the 
figures.  His  Venuses  in  fact  are  pure  portraits. 
He  did  not  seek  to  represent  profound  repose.     His 

a  At  the  Luxembourg,  Paris.  There  are  several  replicas  of  this 
picture. 

b  Dresden  Gallery.  See  Plate  6.  Titian  added  a  Cupid  to  this 
picture,  but  the  little  god  was  subsequently  painted  out  by  a  restorer. 
(L.  Venturi,  Giorgione  e  il  Giorgionismo,  19 13.) 


Expression — Classical  Ideals        117 

most  important  example  is  at  the  Uffizi  Gallery,* 
the  design  of  which  was  taken  from  Giorgione's 
work.  The  goddess  is  a  figure  of  glowing  beauty, 
but  the  pose  indicates  consciousness  of  this  fact  and 
calls  the  model  to  mind.  Perhaps  the  surroundings 
tend  to  accentuate  the  drawback,  for  in  this,  as  in 
most  of  his  other  pictures  of  Venus,  the  artist  has 
introduced  Venetian  accessories  of  the  period. 
Palma  Vecchio  also  took  Giorgione's  work  as  a 
guide  for  his  reposing  Venus,  but  he  represents  her 
fully  awake  with  Cupid  present.^  An  exceptional 
work  of  the  subject  was  designed  by  Michelangelo. 
and  painted  by  Pontormo'^  and  others.  It  repre- 
sents the  goddess  reclining  with  Cupid  at  her  head; 
but  the  form  is  entirely  opposed  to  all  our  conceptions 
of  Venus,  for  she  is  seen  as  a  broad  massive  woman 
with  a  short  neck,  and  a  strongly  formed  head — a 
fit  companion  for  some  of  the  figures  in  the  Sistine 
Chapel.  Proud  dignity  and  a  certain  majesty  are 
suggested  in  the  expression,  but  the  figure  is  without 
the  grace  and  charm  usually  associated  with  the 
goddess.  The  only  other  early  Italian  reposing 
Venus  of  interest  is  Botticelli's,  where  he  shows  her 
in  deep  thought  with  two  cupids  by  her  side.*^ 

In  the  seventeenth  century  Venus  was  rarely 
represented  reposing.  Nicholas  Poussin  has  a  fine 
picture  on  the  subject,  but  unfortunately  for  the 
repose  a  couple  of  cupids  are  in  action  beside  the 

a  The  sitter  is  supposed  to  have  been  the  model  also  for  La  Bella 
in  the  Uffizi,  and  the  Woman  in  Fur  at  the  Vienna  Gallery. 

b  Dresden  Gallery.  c  Hampton  Court  Palace,  England. 

^  National  Gallery,  London. 


ii8  Art  Principles 

sleeping  goddess,  while  the  heads  of  two  satyrs  are 
dimly  seen.*  In  the  Sleeping  Venus  of  Le  Sueur, 
which  was  much  praised  in  former  times,  Cupid  is 
present  with  a  finger  to  his  mouth  to  indicate  silence, 
but  Vulcan  is  seen  in  an  adjoining  room  wielding 
a  heavy  hammer,  the  suggestion  of  repose  being 
thus  destroyed.  No  reposing  Venus  of  importance 
has  since  been  produced,  though  a  few  French  artists 
have  treated  the  subject  in  a  light  vein,  notably 
Boucher  in  his  Sleeping  Venus,  and  Fragonard  in  a 
delicate  composition  of  Venus  awakened  by  Aurora. 
Venus  cannot  be  represented  as  conscious  of  her 
beauty,  or  the  design  would  immediately  suggest 
vanity.  Consequently  when  shown  looking  into  a 
mirror,  she  should  be  engaged  at  her  toilet,  or  at 
least  the  reflection  should  be  accidental.  Titian 
painted  the  first  great  picture  of  the  goddess  at  her 
toilet,  but  this  is  just  completed  and  her  hands  are 
at  rest.^  The  attitude  would  be  extravagant  were 
it  not  that  any  suggestion  of  satisfaction  is  overcome 
by  the  artist  making  Cupid  hold  the  mirror,  and 
giving  Venus  an  expression  of  unconcern  as  she 
glances  at  her  reflection.  The  work  suggested  to 
Rubens  a  similar  design,  but  he  shows  the  goddess 
dressing  her  hair,  this  being  apparently  the  only 
definite  action  which  may  be  properly  introduced 
into  such  a  composition.''  Albani  has  a  delightful 
picture  in  which  Cupid  compels  Venus  to  hold  a 
mirror,"^  and  some  later  artists  have  represented 
her  adorning  her  tresses  with  the  aid  of  a  water 

a  Dresden  Gallery.  b  The  Hermitage,  Petrograd. 

c  Hofmuseum,  Vienna.  d  The  Louvre. 


Expression — Classical  Ideals        119 

reflection.  The  only  notable  faux  pas  in  a  paint- 
ing of  this  subject  is  in  the  Venus  and  Cupid 
assigned  to  Velasquez,  in  which  Venus  lies  on  her 
side  and  looks  into  a  mirror  held  by  Cupid  at  her 
feet.^  There  is  no  suggestion  of  toilet  or  acci- 
dent, and  hence  the  attitude  is  quite  inapplicable  to 
a  goddess. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  the  province  of 
Aphrodite  is  to  infuse  the  gentle  warmth  of  love  into 
the  human  race,  and  not  to  attract  love  to  herself. 
The  rays  are  presumed  to  proceed  from  her  only, 
for  a  mortal  having  no  divine  powers  would  be  in- 
capable of  reflecting  them.  Zeus  was  required  to 
bring  about  the  adventure  with  Anchises.  Hence 
a  voluptuous  form  should  never  be  given  to  the 
goddess,  and  if  an  artist  err  at  all  in  the  matter,  it 
should  be  on  the  side  of  restraint  lest  the  art  be 
affected  by  a  suggestion  of  the  sensuous.  The 
surest  means  of  preventing  this  is  to  represent  the 
goddess  in  an  attitude  of  repose,  with  perfect  con- 
tentment as  a  feature  in  expression.  If  any  action 
be  indicated,  it  must  be  light  and  purely  accidental 
in  its  nature.  To  introduce  an  action  involving  an 
apprehension  of  human  failings  tends  to  bring  the 
goddess  down  to  the  human  level,  and  thus  to  destroy 
the  ideal.  The  Venus  de'  Medici  is  a  superb  sculp- 
ture of  a  woman,  but  an  inferior  representation  of 
Venus,  for  modesty  is  a  human  attribute  arising 
from  purely  artificial  circumstances  of  life,  its  mean- 
ing varying  with  race  conditions  and  customs.  To 
depict  a  goddess  in  an  action  suggestive  of  modesty 

a  National  Gallery,  London. 


120  Art  Principles 

or  other  antidote  to  the  coarser  effects  of  natural 
instincts,  is  therefore  an  anomaly. 

HERA 

There  is  no  fixed  type  in  art  of  the  ox-eyed  sister 
and  spouse  of  Zeus,  the  Queen  of  Olympus,  whose 
breast  heaves  ever  high,  and  flaming,  with  the  rush- 
ing fire  of  jealousy;  the  Virgilian incarnation  of  bitter 
rage;  yet  withal  the  symbol  of  eternal  Earth,  yearly 
renewing  her  fruitful  youth  with  the  burning  kiss 
of  the  sun.  The  sculptors  of  Greece  saw  in  her  only 
the  supreme  Matron-Spouse,  serenely  pondering 
the  march  of  time  beneath  the  awful  sway  of  her 
lord.  A  mantle  she  wore,  and  a  high-throated  tunic, 
as  she  looked  into  space  from  a  square-wrought 
throne;  or  she  stood  in  her  temple  with  flowing 
robe  and  diadem,  inscrutable,  before  the  offerings 
of  an  adoring  multitude.  But  nevertheless  she  was 
not  insensible  to  the  radiance  of  Aphrodite.  Poly- 
clitus  did  well  to  place  a  cuckoo  on  her  sceptre,  and 
who  can  forget  how  the  lotus  and  the  hyacinth  cush- 
ioned the  ground  on  the  heights  of  Ida  beneath  a 
golden  cloud,  which  held  suspended  around  the 
glittering  couch  a  screen  of  sparkling  dew? 

It  is  unfortunate  that  the  painter  is  at  a  loss  to 
deal  with  the  majestic  scenes  in  great  Juno's  story. 
How  is  he  to  depict  her  flying  in  the  celestial  chariot 
between  heaven  and  earth,  each  leap  of  the  fiery 
coursers  measuring  the  range  of  the  eye  from  a  lofty 
peak  across  the  sea  to  the  endless  haze?  How  can 
he  paint  her  anointed  with  ambrosial  oil  which  is 


Expression — Classical  Ideals        121 

ever  struggling  for  freedom  to  bathe  the  rolHng 
earth  in  fragrance?  He  may  add  a  hundred  tassels 
to  her  girdle;  perhaps  give  her  the  triple  grace- 
showering  eardrops,  and  even  the  dazzling  sun- 
bright  veil ;  but  the  girdle  of  Aphrodite,  which  peeps 
from  her  bosom,  will  fail  to  turn  the  brains  of  men, 
or  pierce  their  hearts  with  rays  of  soft  desire.  And 
the  more  dreadful  side  of  Hera's  history  would 
equally  trouble  the  despairing  artist,  for  dire  anger 
and  jealousy  ill-become  the  countenance  of  a  goddess. 
The  smouldering  fire  must  never  leap  into  flame. 
Eyes  may  not  flash,  not  the  lips  quiver,  and  the 
noble  brow  must  be  free  from  fitful  thought. 

So  with  Hera  there  is  no  middle  course  for  the 
painter.  He  must  represent  her  alone,  calm  and 
passionless,  unfathomable,  with  a  sublime  disregard 
of  earth;  or  else  join  with  his  predecessors  and  drag 
her  down  to  a  mundane  level  in  scenes  of  trivial 
fable.  But  there  is  room  for  untold  Heras  of  the 
higher  type. 

DEMETER 

Matron-Guardian  of  the  yielding  soil;  heart- 
stricken  wanderer  over  the  earth;  mysterious  silent 
Food-Mother  whom  all  men  love  and  the  gods  revere; 
eternal  life-preserver;  fruitful,  but  passionless  save 
where  the  vision  of  Pluto  looms,  lasus  and  Poseidon 
notwithstanding!  Such  was  the  Demeter  of  the 
ancient  Greeks  till  the  hordes  of  Alexander  mingled 
her  fame  with  the  lustre  from  Isis  and  De.  So  the 
mourning  haute  dame  of  Olympus  came  nearer  the 


122  Art  Principles 

seat  of  her  care,  nearer  the  dread  home  of  her  daugh- 
ter: passed  from  Homer  to  Theocritus;  from  the 
adoration  of  the  higher  priesthood  of  Greece,  to 
become  merged  in  the  Ceres  of  Rome,  the  goddess 
beloved  of  the  lowly,  who  received  the  first  fruits 
of  the  field  amidst  joyful  measures  of  dance  and 
song.  But  it  is  the  haute  dame  that  strikes  our 
imagination — the  staid  and  mystic  Demeter  of 
Eleusis,  and  not  the  Ceres  of  the  Roman  lyric.  The 
light-hearted  Ceres,  as  a  beautiful  woman  in  the 
prime  of  life,  may  be  adorned  with  poppies  and  wheat- 
ears,  may  stand  serene  and  smiling  as  a  symbol  of 
harvest  or  the  goddess  of  a  Latin  temple;  but  paint 
her  as  one  will,  she  will  do  little  more  than  serve 
to  show  how  fallen  are  the  idols — how  immeasurable 
is  the  descent  from  the  stately  Earth-Mother  whose 
image  would  be  stamped  on  the  brain  of  a  Phidias. 
But  where  is  the  Phidian  Demeter?  Surely  such 
a  goddess,  "deeply  musing  in  her  hallowed  shrine," 
was  a  theme  for  the  carver  of  the  immortal  Zeus 
and  Athena!  Perhaps  those  inscrutable  headless 
"Fates"  from  the  Parthenon,  so  wonderful  in  no- 
ble grace  that  the  conception  of  befitting  heads 
is  beyond  the  reach  of  our  minds,  include  the 
Earth-Mother  and  her  daughter !  How  easy  it  is  to 
imagine  the  reclining  figure  as  Persephone  leaning 
upon  the  mother  who  loved  her  so  well!  But  we 
must  be  content  with  what  we  have  of  Demeter  in 
art,  which  is  little  more  than  a  few  fifth  century 
frieze  reliefs,  the  figure  from  Cnidos  attributed  to 
Scopas,*  and  some  Damophon  memories  of  Phidias. 

a  See  Plate  7. 


Expression — Classical  Ideals        123 

So  the  artist  is  free  and  untrammelled  in  respect 
of  the  representation  of  the  far-famed  goddess. 
There  is  no  definite  type  of  her  which  has  fixed  itself 
on  the  minds  of  men,  though  the  legend  and  story 
weaved  about  her  name  are  beautiful  and  wonderful 
in  a  high  degree. 

ATHENA 

Though  swathed  in  legend  and  surrounded  with 
a  hallow  of  Grecian  reverence,  Athena  is  always 
cold.  She  may  dim  the  sun  with  the  radiance  of 
her  armour ;  ride  in  a  flaming  car,  and  have  Strength 
and  Invisibility  for  her  allies;  but  she  fights  only 
on  the  side  of  the  strong,  and  uses  the  tactics  of 
spies  against  her  enemies.  With  the  Gorgon's  head 
on  her  shield,  and  a  helmet  which  will  cover  the 
soldiers  of  a  hundred  towns,  she  yet  whispers  advice 
to  Grecian  heroes,  and  deflects  a  Trojan  arrow  in 
its  flight.  Truly  as  Goddess  of  War  she  is  somewhat 
difficult  to  generalize.  But  she  is  also  the  divinity 
of  the  arts  and  sciences;  invents  the  pipe  and  the 
shuttle,  and  becomes  the  depository  of  all  industrial 
knowledge.  Hence  she  embodies  the  triumphs  of 
peace  and  war — combines  the  extremes  of  human 
exertion. 

How  Phidias  overcame  the  task  of  representing 
the  goddess  is  well  known.  He  generalized  war  and 
wisdom,  and  from  his  great  work  of  the  Parthenon 
there  can  be  little  departure  in  respect  of  bearing 
and  attitude,  so  long  as  the  province  of  war  is  sym- 
bolized in  the  design.  The  actual  work  of  the 
Greek  master  has  disappeared,  but  from  various 


124  Art  Principles 

records  and  copies,  it  would  appear  that  the  Par- 
thenon Athena  was  the  loftiest  conception  ever 
worked  out  in  sculpture,  if  we  except  the  Olympian 
Zeus.  Majestic  grace  and  the  unconscious  power 
derived  from  supreme  knowledge,  seem  to  have 
been  the  first  qualities  exhibited  in  the  statue.  In 
the  fourth  century  there  was  no  great  departure 
from  the  Phidian  ideal,  and  it  is  difficult  to  see  how 
there  could  be  much  modification  in  the  direction 
of  bringing  the  conception  closer  to  earth,  for  the 
goddess  had  no  special  presumed  form  which  could 
be  adapted  by  the  artist  to  popular  ideas.  A  nude 
figure  would  be  impossible  because  in  this  the  force 
and  power  implied  in  a  hero  of  war  could  not  be 
combined  with  feminine  attributes.  The  Greeks 
drew  the  line  at  observable  muscular  developments, 
invariably  clothing  nearly  the  whole  of  the  figure, 
but  they  did  not,  and  could  not,  free  her  general 
bearing  from  certain  masculine  qualities.  It  is 
true  that  the  costume  of  the  goddess  might  be  modi- 
fied, and  Phidias  himself  represented  her  in  one  or 
two  statues  without  a  helmet,  an  example  followed 
by  several  artists  of  the  Renaissance,^  but  so  long 
as  the  symbols  of  war  are  included  in  her  habit, 
she  can  be  only  of  formal  use  to  the  painter. 

APOLLO 

Although  in  mythology  Apollo  is  connected  with 
everything  on  earth  which  is  useful  or  pleasing  to 

a  See  Piero  di  Cosimo's  Marsyas  and  the  Pipes  of  Athena,''?  and 
Botticelli's  Athena  and  the  Centaur. 


Expression — Classical  Ideals        125 

mankind,  in  art  custom  has  so  confined  his  represen- 
tation in  respect  of  both  appearance  and  symbols, 
that  a  type  has  been  estabhshed  from  which  it  would 
be  difficult  to  depart  without  a  suggestion  of  incon- 
gruity arising.  This  type  is  of  a  more  purely  formal 
character  than  that  of  any  other  god,  except  perhaps 
Mercury,  a  circumstance  probably  arising  from  the 
fact  that  the  reputed  hard  nature  of  Apollo  fails  to 
lend  itself  to  sympathetic  idealization.  He  does 
not  appear  to  have  been  a  favourite  subject  with  the 
greatest  sculptors  of  ancient  times,  for  nearly  all 
the  innumerable  statues  of  him  which  have  come 
down  to  us,  are  reproductions  of  two  or  three  types 
which  in  themselves  vary  but  little.  It  is  difficult 
to  see  how  a  really  noble  ideal  of  such  a  god  can  be 
suggested.  Stern  and  inflexible,  with  many  human 
vices  but  no  weaknesses  or  gentle  traits,  and  withal 
a  model  of  physical  beauty  without  strength  or 
apparent  power — in  fact  an  emphasized  feminine 
form:  such  is  the  Apollo  of  tradition  and  art.  We 
cannot  wonder  that  the  type  was  quickly  fixed,  the 
limitations  to  avoid  the  abnormal  being  so  well 
defined. 

The  painter  then  has  small  scope  with  the  figure 
of  this  god.  He  may  only  slightly  vary  the  accepted 
form,  which  admits  of  but  a  negative  expression. 
The  best  representation  of  Apollo  in  modern  art 
is  the  one  by  Raphael  in  the  Parnassus  fresco  at  the 
Vatican,  though  the  beautiful  figure  in  the  Marsyas 
work  at  the  Louvre  is  very  nearly  as  perfect.'*^ 
Raphael  does  not  give  to  the  god  the  rounded  swell- 
ings of  a  female  form,  but  overcomes  the  difficulty 


126  Art  Principles 

by  showing  him  as  a  young  man  of  perfect  figure 
who  has  just  reached  maturity.  The  expression  is 
entirely  general,  but  does  not  suggest  a  god-like 
power. 

DIANA 

It  would  scarcely  be  natural  to  be  sympathetic 
with  Artemis.  She  seems  to  be  the  feminine  type 
of  a  cold  flint-like  nature,  as  Apollo  is  the  masculine, 
and  one  can  well  understand  that  mythology  makes 
of  them  brother  and  sister.  Mistress  of  wild  beasts 
and  goddess  of  sudden  death,  she  was  always  wor- 
shipped from  fear :  her  wrath  had  ever  to  be  appeased ; 
she  inspired  neither  affection  nor  respect.  True, 
she  wore  the  mantle  of  Ililythia,  but  only  to  be 
dreaded,  and  even  the  attempt  to  throw  a  warm 
halo  over  her  by  the  theft  of  the  Endymion  story 
for  her  benefit,  failed  to  lift  her  reputation  for  the 
tireless  satisfaction  of  a  supernatural  spleen.  Never- 
theless for  the  painter  Diana  has  always  had  a 
certain  attraction,  because  the  legends  connected 
with  her  offer  opportunities  for  the  exercise  of  skill 
in  the  representation  of  the  nude.  But  there  is 
an  end  of  all  things,  and  the  bathing  and  hunting 
scenes  have  been  fairly  exhausted.  For  the  sculp- 
tor only  is  Artemis  likely  to  live.  Bright  colours  are 
not  the  vehicle  to  represent  the  symbol  of  an  idea 
which  is  beyond,  but  not  above,  nature — a  useless 
abstraction  which  neither  warms  the  heart  nor 
elevates  the  soul.  Callisto  draws  our  sympathy, 
and  Niobe  our  tears:  the  goddess  freezes  our 
veins. 


Expression — Classical  Ideals        127 

NEPTUNE 

Brother  of  Jupiter  and  Pluto;  sire  of  Theseus, 
of  Polyphemus,  and  of  the  titanic  lads  who  threat- 
ened to  pile  mountain  on  mountain  in  order  to  destroy 
the  home  of  the  deities;  the  god  whose  footsteps 
tremble  the  earth;  who  disputes  with  the  sun;  who 
uses  floods  and  earthquakes  for  weapons ;  who  owns 
vast  palaces  in  the  caverns  of  the  deep ;  for  whom  the 
angry  waves  sink  down  beneath  the  shining  sea, 
and  ocean  monsters  play  aroimd  his  lightning  track 
across  the  waters:  this  is  the  divinity  whom  the 
painter  is  accustomed  to  portray  as  a  rough  bearded 
man  with  dishevelled  hair  and  rugged  features,  hold- 
ing a  three-pronged  fork,  and  associating  with  dol- 
phins, mermaids,  and  shells.  But  Neptune  is  not 
a  popular  god.  He  does  not  appeal  to  the  mind  as 
a  good-natured  god  like  Jupiter  or  Mercury,  with 
many  of  the  virtues  and  some  of  the  failings  of  man- 
kind. His  acts  are  mostly  violent;  he  punishes  but 
does  not  reward;  grows  angry  but  is  never  kind. 
There  is  consequently  no  sympathetic  attitude 
towards  him  on  the  part  of  the  artist,  who  would 
sooner  paint  good  than  bad  actions.  Beyond  his 
violent  acts,  the  circumstances  which  make  up  the 
history  of  the  god,  provide  subjects  more  suitable 
for  the  poet  than  the  painter,  who  is  practically 
confined  to  unimportant  and  casual  incidents  which, 
with  changes  of  accessories,  would  answer  a  thousand 
scenes  in  mythological  history.  Neptune  then  may 
well  disappear  from  the  purview  of  the  painter,  with 
the  tritons  and  the  seaweed  entourage. 


128  Art  Principles 

MARS 

From  the  point  of  view  of  the  painter,  there  is 
little  to  say  about  the  Grecian  Ares.  He  has  not  a 
single  good  trait  in  legend  or  story,  and  we  know 
nothing  of  his  presumed  personal  form  beyond  the 
military  externals.  It  is  difficult  to  understand  how 
such  a  god  came  to  be  included  among  the  deities 
of  a  civilized  race.  Of  what  service  could  be  prayer 
when  it  is  addressed  to  a  blatant,  bloodstained, 
genius  of  the  brutal  side  of  war,  without  feeling  or 
pity,  and  apparently  so  wanting  in  intelligence  that 
he  has  to  leave  the  direction  of  battles  to  a  goddess  ? 
One  would  think  that  Homer  intended  him  as  the 
god  of  bullies,  or  he  would  not  have  made  him  roar 
like  ten  thousand  men  when  struck  with  a  stone, 
nor  would  he  have  allowed  him  to  be  impris- 
oned by  two  young  demigods,  and  contemptuously 
wounded  by  a  third.  But  who  is  responsible  for 
the  association  of  such  a  wretched  example  of  divin- 
ity with  the  radiant  Aphrodite,  for  surely  it  is 
only  the  cloak  of  Homer  that  covers  the  story! 
Was  it  a  painter  who  had  sought  in  vain  from  the 
poets  a  suggestion  for  a  composition  in  which  the 
god  would  at  least  appear  normal,  or  a  cynical  critic 
who  wished  to  incite  ridicule  as  well  as  contempt  for 
the  divinity?  In  any  case  the  painter  must  sigh 
in  vain  for  an  inspiriting  design  with  Ares  as  the 
leading  figure :  he  cannot  harmonize  love  and  terror. 

The  Roman  Mars  has  a  slight  advantage  over 
Ares,  for  the  name  of  Silvia  is  sweetly-sounding, 
but  she  should  be  represented  alone,  as  the  star  of 


Expression — Classical  Ideals        129 

the  wild  Campagna,  while  yet  it  was  forest-clad: 
the  gleaming  light  whose  rays  are  to  illumine  the 
earth.  Mars  may  disappear  with  the  wolf,  but  who 
can  hide  the  glory  of  Rome? 

MERCURY 

It  is  difficult  to  connect  the  Hermes  of  the  poet 
with  the  tedious  expressionless  figure  commonly 
seen  in  painting,  whose  only  costume  is  a  helmet, 
and  whose  invariable  province  is  apparently  to  look 
on  and  do  nothing.  For  the  sculptor  he  is  a  god ; 
for  the  painter  a  symbol  of  subordination.  A  Ru- 
bens may  give  him  the  pulse  of  life,  but  only  the 
sculptor  can  suggest  the  divinity.  With  the  painter 
the  winged  helmet  is  a  bizarre  ornament;  the  im- 
mortal sandals  are  shrunken  to  leather ;  the  caduceus 
is  a  thing  of  inertia  which  is  ever  in  the  way.  But 
with  the  sculptor  all  these  things  may  be  endowed 
with  the  quickening  spirit  of  a  soaring  mind,  for 
does  not  Giovanni  di  Bologna  show  the  lithesome 
god  speeding  through  space  ahead  of  the  wind,  the 
feathery  foot-wings  humming  with  delirium,  the 
trembling  air  dividing  hastily  before  the  wand? 
True,  the  painter  may  represent  the  divine  herald 
on  his  way  through  space,  as  when  he  conducts 
Psyche  to  Olympus,  or  leads  the  shades  of  the  suit- 
ors to  Hades;  but  the  accessories  present  must 
surround  him  with  an  earthy  framework,  unless  the 
design  be  confined  to  a  ceiling,  and  shut  away  from 
things  mundane  with  architectural  forms,  as  in  the 
plan  of  Raphael  at  the  Farnese  Villa,  or  to  a  fresco 


130  Art  Principles 

executed  in  the  manner  of  a  Flaxman  drawing. 
Beyond  these  artifices  the  artist  cannot  go  with 
propriety. 

Few  and  worn  are  the  scenes  in  the  history  of  the 
god  in  which  he  takes  a  leading  part.  The  head  of 
Argus  seems  to  be  cut  off,  or  awaiting  separation, 
in  nearly  every  collection,  sometimes  with  Juno  on 
a  cloud  deeply  frowning  with  revengeful  ire,  occa- 
sionally with  the  peacock  expectant  of  its  glorious 
fan,  but  always  with  the  weak-looking  helmeted 
piper,  passive  and  unconcerned  as  if  fulfilling  a  daily 
task.  A  Correggio  may  weave  his  golden  fancy 
around  a  scene  where  Cupid  learns  to  strengthen 
his  arrows  with  the  rules  of  science  and  the  wiles  of 
art;  but  let  the  painter  beware  of  the  infant  Bac- 
chus in  the  arms  of  the  messenger-god,  lest  a  vision 
of  the  Olympian  group  arise  and  enfold  his  work  in 
a  robe  of  charity.  The  schemes  whereby  the  cradled 
thief  deceived  the  Pythian  god  are  beyond  the  scope 
of  the  painter,  though  there  is  a  certain  available 
range  in  the  charming  actions  surrounding  the  in- 
vention of  the  lyre.  And  if  the  designs  relating  to 
the  unfortunate  Lara  be  properly  consigned  to  obliv- 
ion, surely  the  connection  of  Hermes  with  Pandora 
offers  a  field  for  the  sprightly  imagination.  But  save 
where  the  god  is  a  symbol  of  commerce  or  speed,  the 
helmet  should  be  dispensed  with,  for  it  is  hackneyed 
beyond  endurance.  The  modern  painter  is  not  bound 
by  custom  unless  the  provision  of  beauty  conflict  with 
the  lucidity  of  the  design  or  the  reverence  for  uni- 
versal sentiment.  Let  the  winged  heels  suffice,  for 
the  shadow  of  Persius  will  scarcely  rise  in  protest. 


'S. 


Expression — Classical  Ideals        131 

BACCHUS 

Centuries  of  bacchanalian  festivities  and  revelries 
have  neariy  killed  Bacchus  for  the  painter.  Who 
can  further  interest  himself  in  meaningless  proces- 
sions, where  the  most  prominent  figure  is  a  fat, 
drunken,  staggering  man,  supported  by  goat-hoofed 
monstrosities,  and  attended  by  all  the  insignia  of 
vinous  royalty  ?  Silenus  is  no  more  the  loving  nurse 
of  the  infant  god;  the  satyrs  are  no  more  the  fol- 
lowers of  a  reed-playing  woodland  deity ;  the  nymphs 
have  long  forgotten  the  flowery  dales,  the  faithful 
trees  that  lived  and  died  with  them,  the  fairy  bowers 
where  first  Semele's  offspring  clapped  his  hands  to 
the  measure  of  dance  and  pipe.  Why  should  the 
dance  be  turned  into  a  drunken  revel?  Why  should 
the  artist  remember  the  orgies  of  Rome,  and  forget 
the  Grecian  pastoral  fancies?  What  has  become  of 
Dionysus,  inheritor  of  Vishnu  traditions,  the  many- 
named  father  of  song,  the  leader  of  the  Muses,  and 
the  fire-born  enemy  of  pirates?  Nothing  remains  of 
him  worth  remembering,  save  Ariadne  the  golden- 
haired,  and  she  must  in  future  be  left  on  the  desert 
isle  lest  the  pathos  of  her  figure  be  disturbed  by  the 
motley  followers  of  her  rescuer. 

It  is  passing  strange  that  the  artists  of  the  Re- 
naissance did  not  attempt  to  lift  Bacchus  out  of  the 
ditch  of  ignominy  into  which  he  had  fallen.  They 
seem  to  have  taken  their  ideas  from  the  recorded 
accounts  of  the  Roman  rites  and  vine  festivals, 
overlooking  the  Grecian  suggestions  relating  to 
Dionysus,  and  even  the  later  restrained  reliefs  pic- 


132  Art  Principles 

turing  incidents  in  his  history.  In  their  art ,  however, 
as  is  evidenced  by  Pompeian  frescoes,  the  Romans 
often  treated  Bacchus  in  a  serious  manner,  associat- 
ing him  with  higher  interests  than  those  connected 
with  festival  orgies.  It  may  be  that  the  figure  of 
the  god  carved  by  Michelangelo  *  had  something  to 
do  with  the  later  coarse  representations  of  him,  for 
it  would  have  been  impossible  for  artists  succeeding 
so  great  a  sculptor,  to  ignore  the  types  he  created. 
But  it  will  be  an  eternal  mystery  how  he  came  to 
design  such  a  Bacchus.  A  voluptuous  semi-realistic 
god,  opposed  to  everything  else  that  was  conceived 
by  the  sculptor,  and  antagonistic  to  all  that  was 
known  in  Greece,  it  can  never  be  anything  more 
than  a  sublime  example  of  a  purely  earthly  figure. 
One  stands  amazed  before  the  perfect  modelling, 
but  aghast  at  the  conception.  It  represents  the 
most  extraordinary  transition  from  the  god-like  man 
of  the  Greeks,  to  a  man-like  god,  ever  seen  in  art. 

The  painter  then  has  little  left  to  use  of  the  con- 
ventional Bacchus  and  his  history,  except  the  never- 
dying  Ariadne,  but  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  him 
from  reverting  to  the  pastoral  Dionysus,  to  the 
delightful  abodes  of  the  nymphs  his  foster-mothers, 
where  Pan  played  and  the  Muses  sang,  while  the 
never-tiring  son  of  Maia  breathed  tales  of  love  into 
willing  ears. 

VULCAN 

The  poet  may  continue  to  hold  our  fancy  with 
volcanic  fires  and  cyclopean  hammers,  but  on  canvas 

a  In  the  Bargello,  Florence. 


Expression — Classical  Ideals        133 

Etna  becomes  a  blacksmith's  forge,  and  the  figure 
of  a  begrimed  human  toiler  is  given  to  the  divinity 
responsible  for  the  golden  handmaids,  and  the  brazen 
bull  whose  breath  was  scorching  flame.  There  is 
rarely  a  painting  of  Vulcan  without  a  forge  and 
leather  bellows,  with  a  smith  who  is  stripped  to  the 
waist,  which  earthly  things  necessarily  kill  all  sug- 
gestions of  celestial  interest,  notwithstanding  the 
presence  of  Venus,  or  the  never-fading  bride  of 
palsied  Peleus.  Occasionally  we  have  the  incident 
with  Mars,  and  strangely  look  for  the  invisible  net, 
but  not  finding  it  we  are  immediately  called  back  to 
earth  to  ponder  over  the  wiles  of  the  ancient  legend 
gatherers.  The  art  is  lost  behind  the  unreality. 
But  why  does  not  the  painter  revert  to  the  child- 
hood of  Vulcan,  when  he  was  hiding  in  the  glisten- 
ing cavern  beneath  the  roll  of  ocean,  fashioning 
resplendent  eardrops  for  silver-footed  Thetis?  Here 
is  scope  for  the  imagination — to  indicate  the  fancies 
of  the  budding  genius  who  was  to  carve  the  wondrous 
shield,  and  adorn  the  heaven-domed  halls  of  Olym- 
pus. Let  Hephaestus  mature  as  he  will  for  the  poet: 
he  should  only  bloom  for  the  painter. 

GENERAL   CLASSICAL  COMPOSITIONS 

Scenes  of  adventure  from  the  ancient  poets  in 
which  the  gods  and  goddesses  are  concerned,  appear 
to  be  rapidly  becoming  things  of  the  past  for  the 
painter.  This  is  partly  due  to  the  circumstance 
that  these  scenes  have  been  so  multiplied  since  the 
early  days  of  the  Renaissance,  that  they  are  now  posi- 


134  Art  Principles 

tively  fatiguing  to  both  artists  and  the  public;  but 
there  is  a  deeper  reason.  If  we  try  to  number  the 
paintings  of  classical  subjects  by  first-class  artists 
which  are  enshrined  in  our  minds,  we  can  count 
very  few,  and  nearly  all  of  these  are  single  figures, 
as  a  Venus,  a  Leda,  a  Psyche,  or  a  Pandora.  We 
do  not  call  up  a  Judgment  of  Paris,  or  a  Diana 
and  Actaeon,  or  any  other  design  where  divinities 
are  mixed  with  mortals  in  earthly  actions.  The 
cause  of  this  seems  to  be  that  our  minds  naturally 
revolt  against  a  glaring  incongruity.  The  imagina- 
tion is  unable  to  harmonize  the  qualities  of  a  god 
with  the  possession  of  human  instincts  and  frailties, 
or  strike  a  balance  between  divine  actions  and  human 
motives.  We  see  these  pictures  and  admire  the 
design  and  execution,  but  they  leave  us  cold:  we 
are  unable  to  kindle  enthusiasm  over  patent  unreal- 
ity. The  general  conclusion  is  that  painters  would 
be  wise  to  avoid  such  compositions,  and  confine  their 
attention  in  classical  work  to  single  figures  of  god- 
desses or  heroines,  leaving  to  the  poet  suggestion  of 
miraculous  powers. 


CHAPTER  IX 

EXPRESSION.       PART    IV. — GENERAL    IDEALS 

Limitation  of  the  painter  with  general  ideals — Ideal  heads  inter- 
changeable in  sacred  and  symbolical  art — Ideal  male  human 
countenances  impossible  for  the  painter. 

In  the  arts  of  sculpture  and  painting,  where  it  is 
necessary  that  the  beauty  should  be  immediately 
recognized  by  the  eye,  it  is  obvious  that  a  general 
expression  is  superior  to  the  particular.  This  is  so 
because  the  general  covers  universal  experience  and 
the  particular  does  not.  But  in  the  art  of  the  painter 
there  is  a  limit  to  the  expression  of  general  beauty. 
Theoretically  there  is  no  beauty  possible  to  the 
sculptor  which  the  painter  cannot  produce,  but 
practically  there  is.  A  sculptor  may  carve  what  we 
understand  as  a  god-like  figure — a  glorious  image 
embodying  all  the  highest  qualities  that  may  be 
conceived  by  man,  with  a  general  expression  covering 
supreme  wisdom  and  every  noble  attribute — such  a 
figure  as  the  greatest  Grecian  artist  chiselled.  This 
figure  would  stand  in  front  of  us,  isolated,  serene  in 
its  glory,  and  we  should  look  and  wonder,  and  a 
second  or  two  would  suffice  to  fill  our  entire  mind 
with  the  image.  For  it  would  be  above  the  earth, 
above   all    our   surroundings.    We    could    connect 

135 


136  Art  Principles 

nothing  on  earth  with  it — neither  human  beings, 
nor  green  fields,  nor  the  seas,  and  certainly  not 
human  habitations,  and  ways,  and  manners,  and 
actions.  A  Phidian  god  can  have  no  setting.  Every- 
thing on  earth  is  too  small,  too  insignificant  to  bear 
it  company.  The  reflection  from  the  majesty  of 
the  design  throws  into  shadow  our  loftiest  earthly 
conceptions. 

Let  us  suppose  that  a  painter  could  be  found  who 
could  execute  such  a  figure:  how  could  he  isolate 
it  to  the  mind?  He  may  not  use  accessories,  for 
these  could  not  be  separated  by  the  eye,  and  the 
association  with  earth  which  they  would  imply 
would  destroy  the  illusion.  But  the  figure  must 
have  relief,  and  hence  tones.  A  monochrome  would 
not  do,  for  the  frame  or  sides  of  the  wall  containing 
the  picture  would  flatten  it,  and  suggest  a  painted 
imitation  of  a  sculpture.  We  may  imagine  a  colos- 
sal figure  painted  on  an  immense  wall  whose  bounds 
are  hidden  by  the  concentration  of  all  the  available 
light  on  the  figure.  Even  then  the  colouring  of  the 
wall  must  be  unseen.  The  figure  must  stand  out  as 
if  against  infinite  space,  surrounded  by  ambient 
air,  in  majestic  solitude,  pondering  over  the  ever- 
lasting roll  of  life  towards  perfection.  In  this  way 
only  could  the  painter  match  the  sculptor,  but 
the  practical  difficulties  are  so  enormous  as  to 
render  the  scheme  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
impossible. 

For  the  painter  then  there  is  a  limit  to  expression. 
He  cannot  proceed  with  his  ideal  higher  than  Prax- 
iteles.    His  limit  is  the  most  supreme  form  and  ex- 


Expression — General  Ideals         137 

pression  conceivable  by  his  imagination,  which  does 
not  exceed  the  apparent  possibility  of  human  experi- 
ence.    Apparent,  because  an  ideal  must  necessarily 
be  actually  above  the  possibility  of  experience,  but 
it  may  not  appear  to  be  so.     For  instance  a  Raphael 
Madonna  does  not  seem  to  represent  a  supernatural 
woman.     There  is  no  single  feature  painted  which 
cannot  be  matched  in  life,  and  hence  it  would  not 
occur  to  the  observer  that  the  expression  is  contrary 
to  the  possibility  of  experience.     But  the  expression 
cannot  be  met  with  in  life,  for  besides  being  entirely 
general,  it  excludes  all  phases  due  to  the  emotions 
or  passions.     One  cannot  imagine  a  woman  with  the 
expression  of  a  Raphael  Madonna  having  concern 
with  any  special  human  interest,  and  least  of  all 
with  feelings  and  failings  arising  from  natural  in- 
stincts.    Yet  the  expression  covers  every  form  of 
noble  endeavour;  every  phase  of  innocent  pleasure; 
every  degree  of  mental  activity  within  the  province 
of  woman.     And  herein  lies  the  art — the  exclusion 
of  the  bad  in  our  nature,  with  the  exaltation  of  the 
good. 

Now  it  is  obvious  that  if  the  expression  be  so  gen- 
eral that  no  particular  quality  can  be  identified  there- 
in, the  countenance  will  serve  for  the  head  of  any 
personage  painted  in  whose  expression  it  is  desirable 
to  indicate  the  possession  of  high  attributes,  without 
suggesting  a  particular  condition  of  mind.  Thus, 
the  head  of  a  Raphael  Madonna  would  equally 
serve  for  the  head  of  a  Saint  Cecilia  or  a  Judith; 
or,  providing  the  age  were  suitable,  for  a  heroine  of 
the  stamp  of  Joan  of  Arc,  so  long  as  the  character 


138  Art  Principles 

of  her  actual  features  were  unknown.  Further  it 
would  be  well  adapted  for  a  symbolical  figure,  as 
Prudence  or  Truth. 

But  a  far  wider  significance  than  is  thus  indicated, 
is  conveyed  by  the  necessity  for  generalizing  expres- 
sion in  order  to  reach  the  painter's  ideal.  It  has 
already  been  noted  that  inasmuch  as  all  men  have 
the  same  general  idea  of  beauty — that  they  generally 
agree  as  to  what  is,  or  is  not,  beautiful,  it  follows 
that  there  must  be  a  common  opinion  as  to  degrees 
of  beauty,  and  so  a  universality  of  ideal;  that  is  of 
course,  among  people  with  similar  experience  of 
life,  as  for  instance  the  white  races  of  the  world."" 
Hence  the  ideals  of  all  painters  must  be  similar.  They 
must  necessarily  aim  for  the  same  generalization 
— exclude  or  emphasize  like.  Manner  or  style,  or 
national  type  may  vary;  purely  sensorial  effects 
may  differ  as  the  minds  of  the  painters  have  been 
variously  trained,  but  the  combination  of  features 
and  effects  which  regulate  the  expression  will  be 
practically  identical  in  every  realized  ideal.  Con- 
sequently, subject  to  changes  in  attitude  or  age, 
ideal  heads  of  all  artists  are  interchangeable  without 
incongruity  resulting,  irrespective  of  the  motive  of 
the  design,  for  the  ideal  countenance  indicated  adapts 
itself  to  any  character  where  no  emotional  or  pas- 
sionate expression  is  required.  The  head  of  the 
figure  representing  "Profane  Love"  in  Titian's  great 
picture,  would  serve  to  express  spiritual  nobil- 
ity in  a  Madonna,^  and  when  a  head  in  a  Madonna 
by  Raphael  is  exchanged  with  that  of  the  central 

a  See  Plate  9. 


Expression — General  Ideals         139 

figure  in  Fragonard's  The  Pursuit,^  there  is  no  re- 
sulting suggestion  of  impropriety  in  either  picture.^ 
Ideal  countenances  have  sometimes  been  given  to 
evil  characters,  as  in  Luini's  Salome,''  and  the 
head  in  this  picture  would  equally  well  serve  for  a 
Madonna.^ 

An  ideal  head  then  will  suggest  any  expression 
that  the  design  in  which  it  is  included  seems  to 
require,  subject  to  the  restrictions  before  noted.  In 
The  Pursuit  the  face  of  the  woman  presumed  to 
be  fleeing  from  her  lover  indicates  some  concern, 
and  even  a  little  fear,^  but  that  this  is  due  to  the 
surroundings  in  the  work,  is  shown  when  the  head 
is  substituted  for  another  in  a  different  picture,  for 
the  concern  has  disappeared,  and  the  expression 
becomes  one  which  may  properly  represent  the 
highest  attributes  connected  with  the  Madonna. 

The  limits  within  which  the  form  and  counte- 
nance of  a  woman  may  be  idealized,  are  prescribed 
by  Raphael  in  his  works.  The  presumed  age  must 
be  that  when  she  reaches  the  full  bloom  of  woman- 
hood. Youth  will  not  do  because  it  involves  an 
expression  denying  experience,  while  physically  a 
girl  cannot  be  supposed  to  have  reached  an  age 
where  her  form  has  ceased  to  progress  towards  per- 
fection. Beauty  of  feature  and  form  is  the  first 
consideration  of  the  artist,  and  hence  his  difficulty 
in  fixing  an  expression  which  shall  be  entirely  free 
from  the  possibility  of  suggesting  desire.     For  this 

a  Frick  Collection,  New  York.so  b  See  Plate  8. 

c  Ufiizi  Gallery,  Florence.  d  See  Plate  lo. 

See  Frontispiece  and  Plate  ii. 


140  Art  Principles 

reason  no  model,  or  series  of  models,  will  suffice  the 
painter:  he  has  always  to  bring  his  imagination  to 
bear,  as  Raphael  admitted  he  had  to  do.^ 

It  is  impossible  to  find  a  head  of  a  woman,  painted 
before  the  time  of  Raphael,  which  fulfils  the  require- 
ments of  art  as  an  ideal.  The  figures  are  either  too 
formal,  or  too  distinctive  in  type,  or  are  evidently 
portraits,  while  in  many  of  the  greatest  pictures  of 
the  fifteenth  century  the  artists  had  not  yet  learned 
how  to  put  warm  blood  into  their  Madonnas.  Ra- 
phael, however,  after  taking  up  his  sojourn  at  Flor- 
ence, became  an  object  lesson  for  nearly  every  school, 
and  ideal  countenances  were  produced  by  other 
masters,  though  no  painter  other  than  Raphael 
succeeded  with  more  than  one  or  two.  Nowadays 
the  ever  increasing  hustle  in  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence, does  not  lend  itself  to  deep  study  and  long 
contemplation  on  the  part  of  painters,  but  hope 
springs  eternal,  and  surely  the  list  of  immortals 
is  not  yet  closed. 

An  ideal  man  of  flesh  and  blood  is  not  possible 
in  the  art  of  the  painter,  for  there  is  no  general  con- 
ception of  male  beauty  below  the  level  of  the  god- 
like. Perfection  of  form  can  be  given,  but  a  supreme 
expression  in  the  face  of  a  man  implies  deep  wisdom, 
and  this  must  necessarily  be  associated  with  maturity 
when  high  sensorial  beauty  of  feature  can  scarcely 
be  expected. 

a  "E  di  belle  donne,  io  mi  servo  di  certa  idea  che  mi  viene  nella 
mente."    Letter  to  Castiglione. 


CHAPTER  X 

EXPRESSION.       PART    V. — PORTRAITURE 

Limitations  of  the  portrait  painter — Generalizations — Emphasis 
and  addition  of  quaHties — Practice  of  the  ancient  Greeks — 
Dignity — Importance  of  simplicity — Some  of  the  great  masters 
— Portraiture  of  women — The  English  masters — The  quality 
of  grace — The  necessity  of  repose. 

While  in  the  scale  of  the  painter's  art,  portraiture 
ranks  next  to  the  higher  branches  of  historical  work, 
yet  it  is  some  distance  behind  them,  for  apart  from 
the  commonplace  of  scenic  arrangement,  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  portrait  painter  cannot  be  carried  further 
than  the  consideration  of  added  or  eliminated  details 
of  form  and  expression  in  relation  to  a  set  subject. 
But  these  details  are  very  difficult,  and  so  it  comes 
about  that  a  good  portrait  involves  a  far  greater 
proportion  of  mental  labour  than  the  result  appears  on 
the  surface  to  warrant.  It  is  indirectly  consequent 
upon  the  complexity  of  his  task  that  the  work  of  the 
artist  who  devotes  practically  his  whole  time  to  por- 
traiture, often  varies  so  largely  in  quality.  He  paints 
some  portraits  which  are  generally  appreciated,  but 
as  time  goes  on  he  is  overwhelmed  with  orders  which 
he  cannot  possibly  fulfil  without  reducing  the  value 
of  his  work.    He  thus  acquires  a  habit  of  throwing  his 

141 


142  Art  Principles 

whole  power  into  his  work  only  when  the  personage 
he  represents  is  of  pubHc  importance,  or  has  a  coun- 
tenance particularly  amenable  to  his  manner  or  style. 
It  is  necessary  that  this  fact  should  be  borne  in  mind, 
otherwise  erroneous  standards  are  likely  to  be  set  up 
when  artists  like  Van  Dyck,  Reynolds,  or  Romney, 
are  referred  to  as  examples. 

In  a  general  sense  nearly  all  painting  where  the 
human  figure  is  introduced,  is  portraiture,  and  it  has 
been  so  since  soon  after  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  when  artists  commenced  to  use  living  men 
and  women  for  secondary  or  accessory  figures  in 
sacred  pictures.  The  increasing  importance  attached 
to  the  anatomy  of  the  figure  resulted  in  the  extensive 
use  of  models,  and  so  in  a  measure  portraiture  rose 
to  be  a  leading  feature  in  the  work  of  the  artist.  The 
figures  in  the  larger  compositions  of  every  kind  by 
the  greater  painters  of  the  late  fifteenth  and  early 
sixteenth  centuries,  consist  almost  entirely  of  por- 
traits of  friends  and  acquaintances  of  the  artists,  the 
exceptions  being  the  countenances  of  the  Deity  and 
Christ,  which  had  to  be  modelled  from  accepted 
types,  and  those  of  the  later  Saints  the  character  of 
whose  features  had  been  handed  down  by  tradition. 
A  few  painters,  as  Raphael  and  Correggio,  idealized 
the  Virgin  away  from  suggestion  of  portraiture,  but 
others,  as  Del  Sarto  and  Pontormo,  even  in  this  case 
took  a  wife  or  other  relative  as  a  model.  The  prac- 
tice was  continued  by  many  artists  in  respect  of  cen- 
tral figures,  till  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
after  which  time  the  identity  of  the  figures  was,  as  a 
rule,  purposely  lost.    Nevertheless  the  figures,  other 


Expression — Portraiture  143 

than  ideals,  used  in  all  good  compositions,  must 
necessarily  be  portraits  or  adaptations  thereof,  for 
only  from  life  can  superior  representation  of  life  be 
obtained. 

The  first  duty  of  the  portraitist  is  to  generalize  the 
expression  of  his  subject.  A  face  seen  once  will  be 
thrown  upon  the  mind  only  with  the  particular  ex- 
pression observable  at  the  moment  of  view.  If  seen 
a  second  time  we  involuntarily  combine  the  effects 
of  the  dual  experience,  and  the  more  often  we  see  the 
countenance,  the  more  closely  will  our  mental  picture 
of  it  correspond  with  the  general  or  average  expres- 
sion worn.  It  is  this  average  appearance  that  the 
portraitist  tries  to  represent,  emphasizing  of  course 
whatever  good  qualities  may  be  indicated.  The 
second  most  important  task  of  the  artist  is  to  balance 
every  part  of  the  picture,  so  that  neither  setting,  nor 
colour,  nor  handling,  is  strikingly  noticeable.  The 
portrait  should  appear  at  first  glance  as  one  complete 
whole,  in  order  that  the  mind  of  the  observer  be 
immediately  directed  to  the  subject,  and  away  from 
the  artist  or  the  manner  of  execution.  The  painter  is 
limited  to  the  actual  character  and  physiognomy  of 
the  figure.  He  must  make  each  feature  harmonize 
with  the  others,  and  add  or  subtract,  hide  or  reveal, 
without  changing  the  general  individuality,  but  he 
cannot  do  more.  His  scope  is,  therefore,  strictly 
limited.  Very  naturally  some  of  the  greatest  por- 
traitists have  rebelled  at  this  limit.  They  appear  to 
have  painted  with  an  eye  to  posterity,  rather  than  to 
satisfy  their  patrons  and  the  people  of  the  time  with 
an  effective  generalization  of  character  and  bearing. 


144  Art  Principles 

If  we  compare  the  portraits  executed  by  Titian  with 
those  representing  certain  accessory  figures  in  some 
important  compositions  of  the  great  masters,  as  for 
instance,  the  School  of  Athens  of  Raphael,^  and  the 
Death  of  St.  Francis  of  Ghirlandaio,''  we  find  a 
marked  difference.  The  latter  are  obviously  true 
portraits  of  living  men,  with  little  accentuated  or 
eliminated,  just  such  portraits  as  Carlyle  wanted 
from  which  to  obtain  real  instruction  for  his  biogra- 
phies. Titian  painted  no  portraits  of  this  kind.  He 
gives  a  lofty  bearing  to  every  person  he  portrays.  His 
figures  seem  to  belong  to  a  special  race  of  men,  en- 
dowed with  rare  qualities  of  nobility  and  dignity, 
with  little  interest  in  the  doings  of  ordinary  people. 
Yet  we  know  that  some  of  his  characters  lived  in  an 
atmosphere  of  evil.  We  cannot  really  believe  that 
the  Aretino  of  Titian  '^  was  Aretino  the  man,  and 
we  find  it  hard  to  imagine  that  Philip  H.,*^  or  the 
Duke  of  Alba,  ®  as  Titian  painted  him,  could  grow 
into  the  monster  he  proved  to  be.  Nevertheless 
Titian  was  justified.  It  is  not  the  business  of  the 
artist  to  consider  the  historian:  his  art  is  all  that 
concerns  him.  Titian  produced  beautiful  pictures 
which  are  commonly  recognized  as  great  portrayals 
of  character;  whose  character  matters  not,  though 
when  we  have  data  upon  which  to  rest  a  judgment, 
we  find  the  lineaments  in  his  works  are  fully  sufficient 
for  purposes  of  identification. 

a  At  the  Vatican.  ^  Fresco  at  Santa  Trinita,  Florence. 

c  Frick  Collection,  N.  Y. 

d  The  Padro,  Madrid,  and  elsewhere. 

e  Huescar  Coll.,  Madrid. 


Expression — Portraiture  145 

While  Titian  went  further  than  any  other  Renais- 
sance painter  in  ennobling  his  subjects,  he  did  not 
approach  the  ancient  Greeks  in  this  respect.  Their 
sculptured  busts  and  terms  represent  the  highest 
portraiture  known  to  us.  Many  examples  remain, 
mostly  copies  it  is. true,  but  quite  fifty  of  them  are 
clearly  faithful  reproductions,  made  apparently  in 
the  early  days  of  Imperial  Rome,  and  accord  closely 
with  the  few  existing  originals.  The  Grecian  por- 
traits differ  from  the  Roman,  and  all  later  painted  or 
carved  portraits  in  a  most  important  feature.*  The 
latter  aimed  at  what  is  still  understood  as  the  highest 
level  in  portraiture.  They  endeavoured  to  give  a 
general  individualism  of  mind  and  bearing,  avoiding 
particular  expression;  in  fact  to  represent  character. 
Since  the  Christian  era  commenced  neither  sculptor 
nor  painter  has  gone  further  than  this,  with  very  few 
exceptions  in  Roman  days  when  Grecian  sculptors 
of  the  time  imitated  the  practice  of  the  fourth  and 
early  third  centuries.  The  earlier  Greeks  on  the 
other  hand  not  only  generalized  portraits  in  an 
extreme  degree,  but,  except  in  the  case  of  athletes, 
they  altered  the  contour  of  the  head  and  varied  the 
actual  features  of  the  subject,  so  that  the  possession 
of  the  higher  human  attributes  should  be  indicated 
as  clearly  as  possible.  They  invariably  showed  a 
large  facial  angle,  placed  the  ears  well  close  to  the 
head,  sunk  the  eyes  deep  in  their  sockets,  and  en- 
nobled the  brows  to  suggest  majesty  or  profound 
thought.  In  fact  the  Grecian  portrait  heads  only 
differ  from  their  sculptured  gods  in  that  particular 

a  See  Plates  12  and  13. 


146  Art  Principles 

countenances  are  depicted,  and  consequently  the 
expression  in  them  does  not  appear  to  be  above  the 
possibiHty  of  human  experience.  Apparently  in 
Grecian  times,  only  men  who  had  become  celebrated 
in  some  way  were  represented  in  stone,  and  hence 
the  artist  had  features  to  depict  which  could  be 
semi-idealized  without  impropriety.  Even  Socrates, 
whose  ugliness  was  proverbial,  was  given  a  noble  and 
dignified  expression.* 

That  the  painter  is  at  liberty  to  follow  the  example 
of  the  Greeks,  there  can  be  no  question  from  the 
point  of  view  of  art,  for  his  first  object  is  to  produce 
a  beautiful  picture;  but  in  portraiture,  practical  and 
conventional  considerations  have  to  be  met,  with 
which  other  branches  of  painting  are  not  concerned. 
With  rare  exceptions  the  portraits  executed  are  of 
living  persons,  and  extreme  accentuation  of  high 
qualities  would  be  likely  to  result  in  a  representation 
of  the  sitter  that  would  appear  false  to  contemporary 
observers,  though  we  might  well  imagine  that  a  work 
exhibiting  this  accentuation  would  seem  to  be  of 
high  excellence  in  the  judgment  of  future  generations. 
There  must  therefore  be  a  line  drawn  in  respect  of 
added  or  accentuated  qualities,  and  the  position 
of  this  line  would  naturally  vary  with  the  celebrity  of 
the  subject  and  the  power  of  the  artist.  Something 
definite  may,  however,  be  said  in  regard  to  the  em- 
phasis of  certain  qualities  of  form,  and  particularly 
of  dignity,  a  feature  that  has  occupied  the  attention 
of  some  of  the  greatest  masters. 

The  question  arises,  how  far  may  the  artist  go  in 

a  See  heads  in  the  National  Museums  of  Rome  and  Naples. 


(V 


Expression — Portraiture  147 

imitating  the  manner  of  the  stage  with  his  portraits  ? 
On  the  theatrical  stage  formaHties  are  required  with 
certain  characters  in  order  to  emphasize  their  posi- 
tion— to  assist  in  the  recognition  of  their  standing  or 
relative  significance  in  the  drama,  for  it  is  of  the  first 
importance  that  the  audience  should  comprehend  the 
meaning  of  the  actions  presented  as  rapidly  as 
possible.  The  actor  must  often  exaggerate  life 
habits  of  pose  and  manner  in  order  to  heighten  the 
contrast  between  two  characters,  or  to  give  special 
significance  to  the  words.  And  the  elevation  of  the 
diction  sometimes  compels  this  exaggeration.  In 
high  drama  where  the  language  used  is  above 
experience  of  ordinary  life  in  measure  and  force, 
there  must  be  appropriate  pose  and  action  to  accom- 
pany it,  and  hence  a  height  of  dignity  or  even 
majesty  may  appear  perfectly  proper  on  the  stage, 
which  would  be  ridiculous  in  surroundings  away 
from  it.  From  the  practice  of  certain  painters  it 
would  seem  that  they  have  looked  upon  portraiture 
as  the  transference  of  their  subjects  to  the  public 
stage  as  it  were,  so  that  they  might  appear  to  occupy 
a  higher  position  in  the  drama  of  life  than  that  to 
which  they  are  habituated.  No  harm  can  arise  from 
this  provided  the  portraitist  does  not  pass  beyond 
the  custom  of  the  theatrical  stage,  where,  whatever 
the  exaggeration,  the  representation  appears,  or 
should  appear,  appropriate  to  the  action;  that  is  to 
say,  where  the  exaggeration  is  not  recognized  as  such. 
Accentuation  of  high  qualities  of  expression,  or  even 
variations  in  certain  physical  features,  such  as  the 
Greeks  brought  about,  would  not  appear  exaggera- 


148  Art  Principles 

tions  in  a  portrait,  but  where  dignity  of  form  is  added 
to  such  an  extent  that  the  observer  immediately 
recognizes  it  as  untrue  to  experience,  then  the  artist 
goes  too  far.  While  this  is  so,  we  do  not  condemn 
Titian,  Van  Dyck,  and  the  few  other  portrait  paint- 
ers who  emphasized  the  quality  of  dignity  of  form 
in  past  times.  The  reason  for  this  appears  to  be  that 
the  usual  methods  of  teaching  history  lead  us  to 
suppose  that  nobles  and  leaders  of  society  in  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  who  were 
usually  the  portrait  subjects  of  the  greater  artists, 
commonly  assimied  a  demeanour  and  bearing  far 
above  our  own  experience.  At  the  present  day,  when 
it  is  a  matter  of  universal  knowledge  that  a  formal 
dignified  pose  is  very  rarely  assumed  by  any  one, 
such  a  bearing  in  a  portrait  would  be  regarded  as 
untrue. 

The  portraitist  may  improve  the  expression  of  his 
subject,  adding  any  good  quality  within  his  power, 
and  he  may  remove  from  the  features  or  figure  any 
marked  physical  defect,  because  the  portrait  would 
still  appear  to  be  correct;  but  if  he  add  a  strong 
dignified  pose,  then  the  result  would  be  something 
that  is  possibly,  but  improbably  accurate,  and  there- 
fore inferior  art.  The  quality  of  dignity  should  be 
expressed  rather  in  the  countenance  than  in  the  pose, 
the  bearing  of  the  form  being  produced  as  in  life, 
for  this  lends  assistance  to  the  true  representation  of 
character.  A  dignified  expression  may  well  be  appro- 
priate to  an  awkward  form  whose  personality  would 
be  undistinguished  by  dignity  of  pose. 

Titian  was  the  first  great  artist  to  give  a  pro- 


Expression — Portraiture  149 

nounced  dignity  of  form  to  his  subjects,  and  he  never 
varied  from  the  practice  unless  the  subject  were 
exhibited  in  action,^  or  too  old  to  be  represented  as 
an  upright  figure.^  Nor  did  he  once  exaggerate  the 
pose  so  that  arrogance  might  be  suggested.  Though 
he  squared  the  shoulders,  he  rarely  threw  back  the 
head  to  emphasize  the  bearing,*^  and  only  in  one 
portrait  is  the  body  slightly  arched  as  the  result  of 
the  pose.''  In  fact  so  careful  was  the  artist  in 
avoiding  over-emphasis,  that  there  is  a  tendency  in 
two  or  three  of  his  figures  for  the  upper  part  of  the 
body  to  lean  a  little  forward.^  Obviously  Titian 
gave  this  dignified  attitude  to  his  portrait  subjects 
of  set  purpose,  as  in  his  general  compositions  there 
is  no  suggestion  of  it.  s' 

Velasquez  no  doubt  acquired  his  habit  of  lending 
dignity  to  his  important  subjects  from  the  examples 
of  Titian's  portraits  which  came  under  his  view  in 
Spain.  Except  in  one  notable  instance  where  the 
bearing  is  much  over-emphasized,^  he  was  equally 
successful  with  the  Italian  master  in  the  practice, 
though  many  of  his  characters  are  far  from  lending 
him  any  natural  assistance.  In  the  case  of  a  Court 
Dwarf,  however,  the  high  dignity  given  to  him  by 
the  painter  seems  to  require  explanation. « 

a  Portrait  of  his  daughter,  Berlin  Gallery,  and  of  Jacopo  di  Strada 
at  Vienna. 

b  Paul  III.  at  Naples,  and  his  own  portrait  at  the  UfBzi  Gallery. 

c  An  exception  is  Charles  V.  at  Muhlberg,  Prado,  Madrid. 

d  Portrait  of  his  daughter  as  a  bride,  at  Dresden. 

e  Notably  in  the  portrait  of  the  Duke  of  Ferrara,  Pitti  Palace. 

f  Count-Duke  Olivares,  Holford,  Coll.,  London. 

8  Don  Antonio  el  Ingles,  Prado. 


150  Art  Principles 

Before  he  went  to  Italy,  Van  .Dyck  followed  the 
natural  system  of  Rubens  in  posing  his  portrait  sub- 
jects, but  at  Genoa  he  painted  under  the  spell  of 
Titian's  memory,  and  thereafter  during  his  whole  life, 
he  gave  a  dignified  bearing  to  his  figures  whenever 
this  was  not  opposed  to  individual  traits.  During 
his  English  period,  when  he  undertook  more  work 
than  he  could  properly  accomplish,  he  sometimes 
over-emphasized  the  dignity  of  a  figure  by  arching 
the  body,^  but  as  a  rule  he  produced  a  just  balance 
of  pose  and  setting,  completing  altogether  a  magnifi- 
cent series  of  portraits  which  remain  the  astonish- 
ment of  the  world. 

It  is  obviously  the  duty  of  the  portraitist  so  to  de- 
sign his  work  that  the  attention  of  the  observer  is 
concentrated  upon  the  countenance  of  the  subject 
immediately  he  has  grasped  the  whole  composition, 
and  it  is  in  the  successful  accomplishment  of  this 
object  that  the  power  of  Rembrandt  lies.  He  rarely 
used  accessories,  and  in  only  a  few  cases  a  background 
of  any  kind.  He  avoided  portraits  where  an  elabor- 
ate setting  was  required,  as  for  instance  full  length 
standing  figures,  of  which  he  only  painted  two^; 
and  in  his  many  three-quarter  length  portraits,  there 
is  seldom  more  than  a  table  or  chair  to  be  seen  apart 
from  the  figure.  With  this  simpHcity  of  design,  and 
with  nearly  all  the  available  light  directed  full  upon 

a  Earl  of  Newport,  Northbrook  Coll.,  England;  Earl  of  Bedford 
Spencer  Coll. ;  and  Queen  Henrietta  (three-quarter  length),  Windsor 
Castle. 

b  Martin  Day  and  Machteld  van  Doom,  both  in  Gustave  Roths- 
child Coll.,  Paris. 


Expression — Portraiture  1 5 1 

the  head  of  the  subject,  the  eye  of  the  observer  of 
the  picture  is  necessarily  centred  instantaneously 
upon  the  features.  These  are  invariably  cast  into 
bold  relief  by  perfect  management  of  the  chiaroscuro, 
and  the  correspondence  with  life  seems  as  complete 
as  it  well  can  be.  Rembrandt  thus  accomplishes  the 
aim  of  every  great  artist:  he  executes  a  faithful 
picture,  and  throws  it  on  the  mind  of  the  observer 
with  the  maximum  of  rapidity.  Only  artists  of  a 
high  order  can  successfully  ignore  a  more  or  less 
elaborate  setting  for  a  portrait,  particularly  if  it  be 
larger  than  bust  size.  Great  care  has  to  be  taken 
with  such  a  setting  lest  the  eye  of  the  observer  be 
attracted  by  the  pose  of  the  figure  and  the  general 
harmony  of  the  work  before  being  directed  to  the 
countenance.  If  we  take  the  general  opinion  of 
known  portraits,  so  far  as  it  can  be  gauged,  we  find 
that  the  most  highly  esteemed  of  them  are :  the  Julius 
II.  of  Raphael,  the  Mona  Lisa  of  Lionardo,  the  Man 
with  the  Gloves  by  Titian,  the  Old  Man  with  a  Boy 
by  Ghirlandaio,  and  Innocent  X.  by  Velasquez.* 
All  of  these  except  Mona  Lisa  are  remarkable  for 
the  simplicity  of  the  setting,  and  in  the  exception 
the  formal  landscape  is  altogether  subordinated  to  the 
figure.  Raphael  was  the  first  artist  who  saw  the 
value  of  avoiding  accessories  in  portraiture.  His 
half-length  portraits  painted  after  his  arrival  in 
Florence,  are  all  free  from  them,  and  his  Julius  II. 
has  only  the  chair  on  which  the  Pope  is  seated. 

Rembrandt  further   aided   the  concentration   of 

a  The  first  at  the  Pitti  Palace,  the  last  at  the  Dona  Gallery,  and 
the  others  at  the  Louvre. 


152  Art  Principles 

attention  on  the  countenance  of  a  sitter  by  the  use 
of  warm  inconspicuous  tones  in  the  clothing,  which 
harmonize  with  all  kinds  of  surroundings  in  which  the 
picture  may  be  seen.  The  colours  never  specially 
attract  the  eye,  and  the  attire  consequently  forms  so 
completely  a  part  of  the  figure,  that  after  an  inspec- 
tion of  the  work  one  can  rarely  describe  the  costume. 
This  subordination  of  colour  is  of  the  highest  im- 
portance in  portraiture,  though  it  is  not  sufficiently 
practised  nowadays.  Velasquez  used  quiet  tones 
whenever  possible,  that  is,  when  he  was  not  painting 
great  personages,  and  Titian,  Rubens,  and  Van  Dyck, 
followed  the  same  course  in  half-length  portraits. 
None  of  these,  however,  seemed  so  careful  as  Rem- 
brandt in  adapting  the  tones  to  the  general  character 
of  the  figure,  so  that  the  impression  left  on  the  mind 
of  the  observer  should  relate  entirely  to  the  person- 
ality. Rembrandt,  in  fact,  aimed  at  a  representation 
of  the  man,  and  the  man  only;  and  he  gave  us  a 
natural  human  being  of  a  commonly  known  type, 
with  his  virtues  somewhat  emphasized,  and  his  faults 
a  little  veiled. 

The  extraordinary  power  of  Velasquez  as  a  por- 
traitist was  due  to  the  same  general  cause  operating 
in  the  case  of  Rembrandt,  namely,  extreme  simplicity 
in  design.  Apart  from  those  instances  where  royal  or 
official  personages  had  to  be  represented  in  decora- 
tive attire,  every  portrait  of  Velasquez  is  merely  the 
impress  of  a  personality.  There  are  no  accessories; 
the  clothing  is  subordinated  to  the  last  degree,  and 
there  is  nothing  for  the  eye  to  grasp  but  a  perfectly 
drawn  set  of  features  thrown  into  strong  relief  by 


Expression — Portraiture  1 53 

a  method  of  chiaroscuro  unsurpassed  in  depth  and 
accuracy.  Thus,  as  in  the  case  of  Rembrandt,  the 
portrait  fulfils  the  first  law  of  art — the  picture  is 
thrown  on  the  brain  in  the  least  possible  fraction  of 
time. 

Velasquez  was  remarkable  in  a  greater  degree  than 
any  other  artist,  if  we  except  Hals,  for  his  facility  in 
execution.  In  his  brush-work  he  appeared  to  do  the 
right  thing  at  all  times  without  hesitation,  achieving 
the  most  perfect  balance  as  if  by  instinct.  So  far  as 
we  can  judge  from  those  instances  where  his  subjects 
were  painted  also  by  other  artists,  his  portraits  are 
good  likenesses,  but  he  followed  the  best  practice  in 
generalizing  the  countenance  to  the  fullest  extent. 
It  is  unfortunate  that  his  work  was  confined  to  so 
poor  a  variety  of  sitters.  Of  his  known  portraits 
more  than  half  represent  Philip  IV.  or  his  relatives ; 
eight  others  are  nobles  of  the  time,  and  another  half 
dozen  are  dwarfs  and  buffoons,  leaving  only  seven- 
teen examples  of  the  artist's  work  amongst  ordinary 
people.  There  never  was  a  weaker  royal  family  than 
that  of  Philip  IV.,  and  it  is  really  astonishing  how 
Velasquez  was  able  to  produce  such  excellent  works 
of  art  by  means  of  their  portraits.  With  his  abnor- 
mal lips  and  weak  face,  the  king  himself  must  have 
been  a  most  difficult  person  to  ennoble,  yet  the 
painter  managed  in  three  portraits  to  give  him  a 
highly  distinguished  countenance  and  bearing,  with- 
out   in    any    way    suggesting     exaggeration.*      Of 

a  The  full  example  at  the  Prado;  the  Parma  full  length,  in  the 
Flick  Coll.,  N.  Y. ;  and  the  three-quarter  length  portrait  at  the 
Imperial  Gallery,  Vienna. 


154  Art  Principles 

another  weak  man — Innocent  X. — Velasquez  painted 
what  Reynolds  described  as  the  greatest  portrait  he 
saw  in  Rome;  and  it  is  truly  one  of  the  most  amazing 
life  representations  ever  executed.^  A  reddish  face 
peers  out  through  a  blaze  of  warm  surroundings  and 
background ;  a  face  in  full  relief  as  if  cut  out  of  apo- 
plectic flesh — almost  appalling  in  its  verity.  It  is 
like  nothing  else  that  Velasquez  painted:  it  over- 
powers with  its  combined  strength  and  realism.  But 
it  is  a  picture  to  see  occasionally,  and  admire  as  a 
great  imitation.  If  one  lived  with  it,  the  colour 
would  hurt  the  eye,  the  unpleasant  face  would  tire  the 
mind.  Such  a  face  should  not  be  painted :  it  should  be 
carved  in  stone,  where  truth  may  be  given  to  form 
without  the  protrusion  of  mortal  decay.  Bernini 
sculptured  the  countenance,  and  gave  the  Pope  a 
certain  majesty  which  no  painting  could  present. 
As  a  life  portrait  the  work  of  Velasquez  is  unrivalled, 
but  as  a  pure  work  of  art,  it  is  behind  the  three  por- 
traits of  Philip  IV.  already  mentioned.  A  distinctly 
unhealthy  face  cannot  be  produced  in  portraiture 
without  injuring  the  art,  for  it  is  a  variety  of  dis- 
tortion. 

Velasquez  was  so  naturally  a  portraitist  that  apart 
from  his  actual  portrait  work,  every  figure  composi- 
tion he  painted  seems  to  consist  merely  of.  the  por- 
traits of  a  group  of  persons.  He  took  little  pains  to 
connect  the  figures  in  a  life  action,  often  painting 
them  with  a  look  of  unconcern  with  the  proceedings 
around  them,  as  if  specially  posing  for  the  artist. 
In  several  of  his  works  there  are  faces  looking  right 

a  In  the  Doria  Gallery,  Rome. 


Expression— Portraiture  1 55 

out  of  the  picture,  and  it  is  evident  that  in  these  the 
artist  had  Httle  thought  in  his  mind  away  from  por- 
trait presentation.''  The  Surrender  of  Breda  and 
Las  Meninas,  '^  regarded  generally  as  his  best  com- 
positions, are  admittedly  portrait  groupings,  but  the 
setting  in  each  case  is  one  of  action,  and  hence  the 
faces  looking  out  of  the  picture  are  a  great  drawback, 
as  they  disrobe  the  illusion  of  a  natural  scene.  That 
a  man  so  accurate  in  his  drawing,  so  perfect  in  his 
chiaroscuro,  and  so  skilful  in  his  brushwork,  should 
yet  be  so  conspicuously  limited  in  imagination,  is  a 
problem  which  art  historians  have  yet  to  solve. 

Franz  Hals  was  on  a  level  with  Velasquez  in  re- 
spect of  facility  in  execution,  and  like  him  seems  to 
have  been  a  born  portraitist.  His  brushwork  was  so 
rapid  and  decisive  that  in  scarcely  any  of  his  designs 
is  there  evidence  of  deliberation.  He  seems  to  have 
been  able  to  take  in  the  essential  features  of  a 
subject  at  a  glance,  and  to  transfer  them  to  canvas 
without  preliminaries,  producing  an  amazing  counte- 
nance with  the  least  possible  detail.  Though  some  of 
his  large  groups  are  a  little  stiff,  this  is  rather  through 
his  want  of  capacity  in  invention  than  a  set  purpose 
of  exaggeration  with  a  view  to  heightening  the  dig- 
nity of  pose,  for  it  is  obvious  that  Hals  had  little 
imagination,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  boundless 
possibilities  of  his  art  in  general  composition.  He 
appears  to  have  passed  through  life  without  concern 
for  his  work  beyond  material  results,  being  well  con- 

a  See  The  Breakfast,  Hermitage;  Christ  in  the  House  of  Martha, 
National  Gallery,  London;  and  The  Drinkers,  Prado. 
b  Both  at  the  Prado. 


156  Art  Principles 

vinced  that  the  magic  of  his  execution  would  leave 
nothing  further  for  the  public  to  desire.  In  the  last 
forty  years  of  his  life  he  made  no  advance  in  his  art 
except  in  one  respect,  but  the  change  was  great,  for 
it  doubled  the  art  value  of  his  portraits.  He  learned 
how  to  subordinate  his  colours ;  how  to  modify  his 
chiaroscuro  in  order  to  force  the  immediate  attention 
of  the  observer  on  the  countenance  of  his  subject.  ^^ 
Such  an  advance  with  such  an  artist  placed  him  in  the 
rank  of  the  immortals  among  the  portraitists. 

It  will  be  seen  that  in  the  judgment  of  the  greatest 
painters,  decoration  in  a  portrait  should  be  alto- 
gether subordinated  to  the  truthful  representation  of 
character,  this  practice  being  only  varied  when  the 
personage  portrayed  is  of  public  importance,  and  the 
portrait  is  required  more  or  less  as  a  monument.  The 
rule  is  natural  and  reasonable,  being  based  upon  the 
universal  agreement  that  the  all-important  part  of  a 
man  comprehended  by  the  vision  is  his  countenance. 
But  the  rule  only  strictly  applies  to  a  single  figure 
portrait,  for  when  the  painter  goes  beyond  this,  and 
executes  a  double  portrait  or  a  multiple  group,  he- 
restricts  the  scope  of  his  art.  Other  things  being 
equal  a  double  portrait  is  necessarily  inferior  art  to 
a  single  figure  picture,  since  the  dual  objective  com- 
plicates the  impression  of  the  work  on  the  brain,  and 
the  only  remedy,  or  partial  remedy,  for  this  draw- 
back possessed  by  the  painter  is  to  introduce  acces- 
sories and  arrange  his  group  in  a  subject  design. 
This  plan  results  in  detracting  from  the  force  of  the 
actual  portraits,  as  it  divides  the  attention  of  the 
observer,  but  there  is  no  help  for  it  unless  one  is 


Expression — Portraiture  157 

content  with  the  representation  of  the  figures  in  a 
stiff  and  formal  way  which  extinguishes  the  pictorial 
effect  of  the  work. 

The  greatest  artists  have  avoided  dual  or  triple 
portrait  works  where  possible  except  in  cases  of 
gatherings  of  members  of  the  same  family,  as  one 
of  these  groups  may  be  regarded  as  a  unity  by  the 
observer.  Nevertheless  in  his  picture  of  Leo  X.,  and 
the  two  younger  Medici,^  Raphael  was  careful  tr 
subordinate  the  cardinals  so  that  they  should  appear 
little  more  than  accessories  in  a  painting  of  the  Pope; 
an  example  which  was  followed  not  quite  so  success- 
fully by  Titian  in  his  triple  portrait  of  Paul  III.  with 
the  two  brothers  Famese.^  A  group  of  two  persons 
who  are  in  some  way  associated  with  each  other, 
though  unconnected  in  action,  rarely  looks  out  of 
place,  as  in  the  pictures  of  father  and  son,  or  of  two 
brothers,  painted  by  Van  Dyck,  or  in  The  Ambassa- 
dors of  Holbein,''  but  no  painter  has  yet  succeeded 
in  producing  a  first-class  work  of  art  out  of  a  mul- 
tiple portrait  group  when  the  personages  represented 
are  unconnected  with  each  other,  either  directly  in 
action,  or  indirectly  through  association  derived 
from  the  title.  The  picture  of  Rubens  representing 
Lipsius  and  three  others,  would  appear  much  more 
stiff  and  formal  than  it  is,  without  one  of  the  iwo 
titles  given  to  it,  notwithstanding  the  general  ex- 
cellence of  the  composition.*^  When  the  figures 
introduced    are   very   numerous,    as   in    the   many 

a  Pitti  Palace,  Florence. 

b  Naples  Museum.  c  National  Gallery,  London. 

d  The  Four  Philosophers,  or  Lipsius  and  his  Disciples,  Pitti  Palace. 


158  Art  Principles 

groups  of  civic  organizations  painted  by  Hals, 
Ravesteyn,  and  others,  the  compulsory  formality 
seriously  detracts  from  the  aesthetic  value  of  the 
works,  however  superior  they  may  be  in  execution, 
or  whatever  the  connection  of  the  personages  repre- 
sented ;  and  when  we  come  to  such  crowded  paintings 
as  Terburg's  Signing  the  Peace  of  Miinster.a  we 
obtain  but  little  more  than  a  record,  though  it  be 
of  absorbing  historical  interest. 

It  is  observable  that  as  a  rule  portraitists  have  been 
more  successful  with  delineations  of  men  than  of 
women.  This  is  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  necessity 
for  subordinating  the  representation  of  character  to 
the  art  in  the  case  of  women  unless  they  have  passed 
the  prime  of  life;  while  with  men  the  art  is  usually 
subordinated  to  the  portrait,  character  being  sought 
independently  of  sensorial  beauty.  Strictly  it  is  the 
duty  of  the  artist  to  make  his  portrait,  whether  of 
a  man  or  a  woman,  sensorially  attractive,  but  here 
again  in  portraiture  custom  and  convention  have  to 
be  considered  with  the  rules  of  art.  It  is  agreed 
that  with  a  woman  sensorial  beauty  must  be  pro- 
duced if  that  be  possible,  even  with  the  sacrifice  of 
certain  elements  of  character;  but  with  a  man  the 
portrait  must  be  recognized  by  the  acquaintances  of 
the  subject  as  corresponding  in  most  details  with  his 
life  appearance.  The  future  of  the  portrait  is  out  of 
the  question  for  the  time  being.  Nevertheless  the 
painter  has  certain  advantages  in  dealing  with 
the  features  of  a  man,  for  the  presence  of  lines  in 
the  brow,  or  other  evidence  of  experience,  does  not 

a  National  Gallery,  London. 


Expression — Portraiture  159 

interfere  with  the  nobiHty  or  dignity  which  may  be 
added  to  his  general  bearing ;  but  what  would  be  lines 
in  the  countenance  of  a  man  would  be  wrinkles  in 
that  of  a  woman,  because  here  they  can  scarcely  be 
neutralized  by  attitude  and  expression  which  imply 
strength  of  character,  without  destroying  what  is 
best  described  as  womanly  charm,  which  is  a  com- 
pulsory feature  in  every  woman's  portrait.  With 
a  man  therefore  the  portraitist  considers  character 
first  and  emphasizes  qualities  of  form  within  his 
power;  while  with  a  woman,  during  the  period  of  her 
bloom,  beauty  of  form  and  feature  must  be  the  first 
care  of  the  artist,  unconflicting  qualities  of  charac- 
ter being  emphasized  or  added. 

All  this  was  of  course  recognized  by  the  great  por- 
traitists of  the  Renaissance  and  the  seventeenth 
century,  but  while  most  of  them  endeavoured  to 
enhance  the  sensorial  beauty  of  their  men  subjects, 
little  attempt  was  made  to  add  intellectual  grace  to 
the  portrayals  of  women.  Antonio  Moro^  and  Van 
Dyck,  in  their  full  length  portraits  of  women,  some- 
times succeeded  in  converting  dignity  of  form  into 
what  we  understand  as  grandeur,  which  implies 
dignity  of  expression  as  well  as  grace  and  dignity  of 
form,  but  they  were  largely  handicapped  by  the  dress 
fashions  of  their  times.  They  had  to  deal  with  heavy 
formal  drapery  which  hung  over  the  figures  like 
elongated  bells,  and  bid  defiance  to  freedom  of  pose. 
When  fashions  and  customs  had  so  changed  as  to 
allow  of  definition  being  given  to  the  figures.  Van 
Dyck  had  been  dead  for  many  years.     Meanwhile 

aCatilina  of  Portugal,  and  Maria  of  Austria,  both  at  the  Prado. 


i6o  Art  Principles 

Hals,  Rembrandt,  Velasquez,  and  hundreds  of  lesser 
lights,  were  casting  around  their  flowers  of  form  and 
mind,  but  all  on  the  old  plan,  for  it  is  difficult  to  find 
a  portrait  of  a  woman  painted  during  the  century- 
succeeding  Van  Dyck,  where  beauty  of  feature  is 
allied  to  nobility  in  expression. 

The  production  of  this  combination  awaited  the 
maturity  of  Reynolds,  who  with  Gainsborough, 
broke  into  a  new  field  in  the  portraiture  of  women. 
Gainsborough  took  the  grandeur  of  Van  Dyck  for  his 
pattern,  but  improved  upon  it  by  substituting  sim- 
plicity for  dignity  and  elaboration,  which  he  was 
able  to  manage  without  great  difficulty,  as  he  had  a 
clear  advantage  over  the  Flemish  master  in  that  the 
costumes  in  use  in  his  time  were  lighter  in  character, 
and  permitted  of  the  contour  of  form  being  properly 
exhibited.  This  simple  grace  of  form  allied  to 
grandeur  in  bearing,  naturally  brings  about  an 
apparent  modification  in  expression  in  conformity 
with  it,  so  long  as  there  are  no  conflicting  elements 
in  expression  present,  which  Gainsborough  was 
careful  to  avoid.  Reynolds  went  further  than 
Gainsborough,  for  after  the  middle  of  his  career  he 
directly  added  an  expression  of  nobility  to  his  por- 
traits of  women  whenever  the  features  would  admit 
of  it,  and  so  brought  about  the  highest  type  of  femin- 
ine portraiture  known  in  art.  He  was  more  nearly 
aUied  to  Titian  than  Van  Dyck,  and  though  in  sheer 
force  of  sensorial  beauty  he  did  not  reach  the  level  of 
the  Venetian  master,  yet  in  pure  feminine  portraiture, 
where  high  beauty  of  expression  is  combined  with  a 
perfect  generalization  of  the  features,  Reynolds  is 


PLATE   14. 


Sacrifice  of  Iphigenia  (Pompeian  Fresco) 
Supposed  copy  of  a  jjaintinj^  by  Timanthes 


(See  page  i68) 


Expression — Portraiture  i6i 

unsurpassed  in  the  history  of  painting,  so  far  as  we 
can  judge  from  examples  remaining  to  us.  For  we 
must  estimate  an  artist  from  his  best  work.  Rey- 
nolds painted  forty  or  fifty  portraits  of  women  of 
the  character  indicated,  and  a  few  of  them,  notably 
Mrs.  Siddons  as  Tragedy,^  and  Mrs.  Billington  as 
St.  Cecilia, '^  are  amongst  the  most  luminous  examples 
of  feminine  portraiture  in  existence.  There  are 
many  artists  who  equalled  Reynolds  in  the  represen- 
tation of  men,  but  there  are  very  few  indeed  who 
even  attempted  to  strike  a  just  balance  between 
sensorial  and  intellectual  effects  in  the  countenance 
of  a  woman. 

With  such  great  leaders  as  Reynolds  and  Gains- 
borough, it  might  have  been  hoped  that  the  school 
they  founded  in  portraiture  would  have  taken  a  long 
lease  of  life,  but  it  rapidly  died  away,  leaving  very 
few  indeed  of  footsteps  sunk  deep  in  the  sands  of 
glory,  save  those  of  Raeburn,  Hoppner,  Lawrence, 
and  Romney.  But  between  Reynolds  and  Romney 
there  is  a  wide  gulf,  for  while  the  former  sought  for 
his  beauty  among  the  higher  gifts  of  nature,  Romney, 
with  rare  exceptions,  was  content  with  a  formal  ex- 
pression allied  to  grace  of  pose.  We  may  shortly 
consider  this  graceful  attitude  for  it  seems  to  be  often 
regarded  as  an  all-sufficing  feature  in  the  representa- 
tion of  women." 

The  charm  of  grace  lies  chiefly  in  movement,  and  a 
graceful  attitude  in  repose  implies  rest  from  graceful 
movement,  but  this  attitude  is  ephemeral  in  nature, 
for  if  prolonged  it  quickly  becomes  an  artificial  pose. 

a  Westminster  Coll.,  London.  t>  New  York  Public  Library. 


i62  Art  Principles 

In  art  therefore,  a  graceful  pose,  whether  exhibited 
in  action  or  at  rest,  must  soon  tire  unless  attractive 
expression  be  present  to  deepen  the  impress  of  the 
work  upon  the  mind  of  the  observer.  The  general 
aesthetic  value  of  graceful  form  in  a  painted  figure 
varies  with  the  scale  to  which  the  figure  is  drawn. 
With  a  heroic  figure,  grace  is  of  the  smallest  impor- 
tance; in  one  of  life  size,  as  a  portrait  for  instance,  the 
quality  is  of  considerable  assisting  value ;  and  as  the 
scale  is  diminished,  so  does  the  relative  value  of  grace 
increase.  This  is  because  details  of  expression  can  be 
less  truthfully  rendered  in  small  figures  than  in  those 
of  life  size,  while  in  miniature  figures  certain  high 
qualities  of  expression,  as  nobility,  or  a  combined 
expression  of  mind  and  form,  as  grandeur,  can  be 
scarcely  indicated  at  all,  so  that  purely  sensorial 
beauty,  as  that  arising  from  grace  of  pose,  becomes 
of  comparatively  vast  importance.  This  was  well 
understood  in  ancient  times.  The  Grecian  sculp- 
tured life-size  figures  are  nearly  always  graceful,  but 
the  grace  arises  naturally  from  perfection  of  form  and 
expression,  and  not  from  a  specially  added  quality,  a 
particular  grace  of  pose  being  always  subordinated, 
if  present  at  all.  On  the  other  hand,  in  the  smaller 
Grecian  figures,  such  as  those  found  at  Tanagra  and 
in  Asia  Minor,  anything  in  expression  beyond  regu- 
larity of  features  is  not  attempted,  but  grace  is 
always  present,  and  it  is  entirely  upon  this  that  the 
beauty  of  the  figurines  depends.  We  may  presume 
from  the  frescoes  opened  out  at  Pompeii,  that  the 
ancients  were  well  aware  of  the  value  and  limitations 
of  grace  in  art.    In  all  these  decorations  where  the 


Expression — Portraiture  163 

figures  are  of  a  general  type,  as  fauns,  bacchantes, 
nereids,  dancers,  and  so  on,  they  are  represented  in 
motion,  flying  drapery  being  skilfully  used  to  provide 
illusion.  Grace  is  the  highest  quality  evident  in  these 
forms,  while  the  expression  is  invariably  negative. 
For  pure  wall  decorations,  which  are  observed  in  a 
casual  way,  a  high  quality  of  grace  such  as  these 
frescoes  provide  is  all-sufficient,  but  as  with  the 
Greeks,  the  Romans  did  not  make  grace  a  leading 
feature  in  serious  art. 

With  the  great  painters  of  the  Renaissance,  nobil- 
ity, grandeur,  and  general  perfection  of  form  and 
expression,  though  necessarily  implying  a  certain 
grace  in  demeanour,  altogether  dwarfed  the  feature 
of  grace  of  pose.  In  the  seventeenth  century,  grace 
was  subordinated  to  dignity  of  form  in  the  case  of 
Van  Dyck  and  Velasquez,  and  to  actual  life  expe- 
rience with  Rubens  and  Rembrandt.  When  either  of 
these  last  two  added  a  quality  of  form  to  their 
figures,  it  was  always  dignity  and  not  grace.  Murillo 
was  the  first  Spanish  painter  to  pay  particular  atten- 
tion to  the  grace  of  his  figures,  but  he  never  gave  it 
predominance.  The  French  masters  of  the  period, 
Le  Brun,  Le  Sueur,  Poussin,  Mignard,  and  Rigaud, 
leaned  too  closely  to  classical  traditions  to  permit  of 
grace  playing  a  leading  part  in  their  designs,  though 
some  of  slightly  lesser  fame  as  Noel  and  Antoine 
Coypel,  appeared  to  attribute  considerable  value  to 
the  quality.  It  was  during  this  century  in  Italy  that 
grace  first  appeared  as  a  prominent  feature  in  figure 
painting.  In  his  pastoral  and  classical  scenes,  Al- 
bani  seems  to  have  largely  relied  upon  it  for  his 


164  Art  Principles 

beauty,  and  Cignani,  Andrea  Sacchi,  Sassoferrato, 
and  others  followed  in  his  footsteps  in  this  respect, 
though  up  to  the  end  of  the  century  no  attempt  was 
made  in  portraiture  to  sacrifice  other  features  to 
grace  of  pose.  Rosalba  then  made  her  appearance  as 
a  portraitist,  and  she  was  the  first  to  rest  the  entire 
beauty  of  her  work  on  sensorial  charm  of  feature  and 
grace  of  pose.  She  developed  a  weakened  school 
in  France  which  culminated  with  Nattier;  and  in 
England,  Angelica  Kauffmann,  and  some  miniature 
painters,  notably  Cosway  and  Humphrey,  took  up 
her  system  for  their  life-size  portraits,  while  many 
artists  "in  small"  as  Cipriani  and  Bartolozzi,  assisted 
in  forming  a  cult  of  the  style.  But  of  the  greater 
British  painters,  only  Romney  gave  high  importance 
to  grace  of  pose  in  portraits  of  women.  It  is  safer 
for  an  artist  to  eschew  grace  of  pose  altogether  than 
to  sacrifice  higher  qualities  to  it.  A  little  added 
dignity  is  always  preferable  to  a  graceful  attitude  in 
a  portrait,  because  in  nature  it  is  not  so  evanescent 
a  feature.  Grace  is  a  good  assisting  quality,  but  an 
inferior  substitute. 

The  greatest  repose  possible  is  necessary  in  a  por- 
trait, as  a  suggestion  of  action  tends  to  draw  the 
attention  of  the  observer  to  it,  thus  impeding  the 
impression  of  the  whole  upon  his  mind.  The  leading 
portraitists  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  cen- 
turies never  erred  in  this  matter,  unless  we  except  a 
single  work  by  Titian — the  portrait  group  of  Paul 
III.  and  the  Cardinals  Farnese,  where  the  last  named 
has  just  arrived  and  is  apparently  in  the  act  of  bow- 
ing before  completing  his  final  step ;  but  even  here  it 


Expression — Portraiture  165 

may  be  fairly  argued  that  a  moment  of  rest  between 
two  parts  of  the  final  action  is  to  be  presumed.  It 
was  not  an  uncommon  practice  of  Van  Dyck  to  pose 
a  subject  arrested  in  the  act  of  walking,  or  with  one 
foot  on  the  lowest  step  of  a  stairway  as  if  about  to 
ascend;  but  in  each  of  these  instances  the  head  is 
turned,  and  it  is  obvious  that  the  motion  is  tem- 
porarily stayed.*  A  similar  pose  was  sometimes 
adopted  by  British  artists  of  the  eighteenth  century 
with  conspicuous  success.  If  a  portrait  figure  be 
painted  in  the  act  of  walking  on  level  ground,  the 
feet  must  be  together  even  if  the  moment  represented 
be  that  between  two  steps  in  the  action,  because  it  is 
contrary  to  all  experience  for  a  man  to  rest  while  so 
walking,  with  one  foot  in  front  of  the  other.  In  a 
general  composition  the  representation  of  a  man  walk- 
ing with  the  feet  separated  is  permissible,  because  it 
is  part  of  a  general  action,  and  accessory  in  its  nature, 
but  in  a  portrait  the  beginning  and  end  of  the  action 
depicted  are  usually  unknown,  and  hence  any  action 
must  be  meaningless  and  disturbing  to  the  observer.*' 
The  French  and  English  artists  of  the  eighteenth 
century  followed  the  practice  of  their  predecessors  in 
avoiding  the  exhibition  of  movement  in  their  por- 
traits, but  occasionally  they  departed  from  the  rule. 
In  his  fine  portrait  of  Mrs.  Thomas  Raikes,  Romney 
shows  the  lady  playing  a  harpsichord,  with  the  fingers 
apparently  in  motion ;  and  in  his  group  of  the  Ladies 

a  See  Earl  of  Pembroke,  Wilton  Coll.,  Coimtess  of  Devonshire, 
Chatsworth,  and  Philip  le  Roy,  Wallace  Coll.,  all  in  England. 

bSee  Chase's  Master  Roland,  private  Coll.,  N.  Y.;  and  Manet's 
Boy  with  a  Sword,  Met.  Musevim,  N.  Y. 


1 66  Art  Principles 

Spencer,  one  of  them  is  fingering  a  harp.  The  result 
in  each  case  is  a  stiff  attitude  which  detracts  from 
the  beauty  of  the  work.  Van  Dyck  managed  such 
a  design  in  a  much  better  way,  for  in  his  portrait  of 
his  wife  with  a  cello,  she  holds  the  bow  distinctly  at 
rest.^  Titian  also,  when  representing  a  man  at  an 
organ,  shows  his  hands  stayed,  while  turning  his 
head.^  Reynolds  moved  aside  once  from  the  custom 
in  respect  of  action,  *=  and  Raeburn  seems  also  to  have 
erred  only  on  a  single  occasion.'^ 

a  Munich  Gallery.  b  Venus  and  the  Organ  Player,  Prado. 

c  Viscountess  Crosbie,  Tennant  Coll.,  London. 

d  Dr.  Nathaniel  Spens,  Royal  Co.  of  Archers,  Edinburgh. 


CHAPTER  XI 

EXPRESSION.      PART  VI — MISCELLANEOUS 

Grief — The   smile — The    open    mouth — Contrasts — Representation 

of  death. 

The  painter  has  ever  to  be  on  his  guard  against 
over-emphasis  of  facial  expression.  His  first  object 
is  to  present  an  immediately  intelligible  composi- 
tion, and  this  being  accomplished,  much  has  already 
been  done  towards  providing  appropriate  expressions 
for  his  characters.  It  has  been  seen  that  attitude 
alone  may  appear  to  lend  to  a  countenance  suitable 
expression  which  is  not  observed  when  the  head  of 
the  figure  is  considered  separately;  and  while  such 
a  condition  is  not  frequent,  its  possibility  indicates 
that  the  painter  is  warranted  in  relying  more  or  less 
upon  the  details  of  his  action  for  conveying  the  state 
of  mind  of  the  personages  concerned  therein.  It  is 
not  the  purpose  here  to  deal  with  the  various  forms 
of  expression  that  may  be  of  use  to  the  painter,  nor 
indeed  is  it  necessary.  The  work  of  Raphael  alone 
leaves  little  to  be  learned  in  respect  of  the  expres- 
sion of  emotion  so  far  as  it  may  be  exhibited  in  a 
paintings 4;  b^t  there  are  a  few  matters  in  relation 
to  the  subject  which  appear  to  require  attention, 

167 


i68  Art  Principles 

judging  from  experience  of  modem  painting,  and 
short  notes  upon  them  are  here  given. 

GRIEF 

Intense  grief  is  the  most  difficult  expression  to 
depict  in  the  whole  art  of  painting,  because  in  nature 
it  usually  results  in  distortion  of  the  features,  which 
the  artist  must  avoid  at  all  cost.  Of  the  thousands 
of  paintings  of  scenes  relating  to  the  Crucifixion, 
where  the  Virgin  is  presumed  to  be  in  great  agony 
at  the  foot  of  the  Cross,  very  rarely  has  an  artist 
attempted  to  portray  this  agony  in  realistic  manner.* 
He  generally  substitutes  for  grief  an  expression  of 
sorrow  which  is  produced  without  contraction  of 
the  features.  This  expreipsion,  which  is  invariably 
accompanied  with  extreme  pallor,  does  not  prevent 
the  addition  of  a  certain  nobility  to  the  counte- 
nance, and  hence  no  suggestion  of  insufficiency  arises 
in  the  mind  of  the  observer.  But  the  sublime  ex- 
pression which  may  be  given  to  the  Virgin  would  be 
out  of  place  in  her  attendants  who  are  not  infre- 
quently made  hideous  through  attempts  to  repre- 
sent them  as  overcome  with  grief. 

A  method  of  avoiding  the  difficulty  is  to  conceal 
the  face  of  the  personage  presumed  to  be  suffering 
from  grief.  Timanthes  is  recorded  by  Pliny  as 
having  painted  a  picture  of  the  Sacrifice  of  Iphigenia 
in  which  the  head  of  Agamemnon  was  completely 
covered  by  his  robe;  and  a  picture  of  the  same  sub- 

aA  notable  exception  is  Poussin's  Descent  from  the  Cross,  Her- 
mitage. 


Expression — Miscellaneous  169 

ject  in  a  Pompeian  fresco  represents  the  Grecian 
monarch  hiding  his  face  with  his  right  hand,  while 
the  left  gathers  up  his  robe.^  This  invention  was 
the  subject  of  considerable  discussion  in  Europe 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  in  which  Reynolds,  Fal- 
conet, Lessing,  and  others  took  part.  Reynolds  said 
of  the  device  that  an  artist  might  use  it  once,  but  if 
he  did  so  a  second  time,  he  would  be  justly  suspected 
of  improperly  evading  difficulties.  Falconet  com- 
pared the  action  of  Timanthes  to  that  of  a  poet  who 
avoided  expressing  certain  sentiments  on  the  ground 
that  the  action  of  his  hero  was  above  anything  that 
could  be  said'';  while  Lessing  held  that  the  grief 
which  overcame  Agamemnon  could  only  find  ex- 
pression in  distortion,  and  hence  the  artist  was  right 
in  covering  the  face.''  Unquestionably  Lessing  was 
justified,  for  nothing  more  is  demanded  of  the  painter 
than  to  impress  the  imagination  of  the  observer  with 
the  intensity  of  the  grief  depicted,  and  in  this  he 
succeeds.  Obviously  the  poet  is  in  a  different  posi- 
tion from  the  painter  because  he  can  express  deep 
grief  easily  enough  without  suggesting  distortion  of 
the  features. 

The  artifice  of  Timanthes  was  practically  unused 
during  the  Renaissance,  though  Botticelli  once  con- 
ceals the  face  of  a  woman  lamenting  over  the  body 
of  Christ,'^  and  Richardson  quotes  a  drawing  by 
Polidoro  where  the  Virgin  hides  her  face  in  drapery 
in  a   lamentation  scene.      In  Flanders  at  a  little 


a  See  Plate  14SS. 

b  "  Traduction  des  34me,  35me,  et  36me  livres  de  Pline." 

c  Laoccxin.  ^  The  Brera,  Milan. 


170  Art  Principles 

earlier  period,  Roger  van  der  Weyden  used  the  de- 
vice,^ and  the  Maitre  de  Flemalle  shows  St.  John 
turning  his  head  away  and  holding  his  hand  to  his 
face  in  a  Crucifixion  scene. '^  In  the  succeeding 
centuries  little  was  known  of  the  practice,  but  quite 
lately  it  has  come  into  use  again.  Boecklin  painted 
a  Pieta  in  which  the  Virgin  has  thrown  herself 
over  the  dead  body  of  Christ  in  an  agony  of  grief, 
her  whole  form  being  covered  by  a  cloak.  Feuer- 
bach  has  a  somewhat  similar  arrangement,  and  in 
a  picture  of  the  Departure  of  Jason,  he  hides  the 
face  of  an  attendant  of  Medea,  a  plan  adopted  in 
two  or  three  frescoes  of  the  subject  at  Pompeii. 
Prud'hon,  in  a  Crucifixion  scene,  hides  the  face  of  the 
Magdalene  in  her  hands,  and  Kaulbach  in  his  Mar- 
guerite so  bends  her  head  that  her  face  is  completely 
concealed  from  the  observer.  Where  the  face  cannot 
altogether  be  hidden  owing  to  the  character  of  the 
design,  it  is  sometimes  thrown  into  so  deep  a  shade 
that  the  features  are  indistinguishable,  this  being 
an  excellent  device  for  symbolical  figures  typifying 
great  anguish.*^ 

It  is  not  a  good  plan  in  a  tragic  design  merely  to 
turn  the  head  away  to  indicate  grief  or  sorrow,  be- 
cause in  such  a  case  the  artist  is  unable  to  differen- 
tiate between  a  person  experiencing  intense  grief, 
and  one  who  turns  his  head  from  horror  of  the 
tragedy.'^  The  scheme  of  half  veiling  the  face  is 
not  often  successful,  since  the  depth  of  emotion  that 

a  In  a  scene  of  The  Eucharist,  Antwerp. 

b  Christ  on  the  Cross,  Berlin.      c  As  in  Hacker's  Cry  of  Egypt. 

d  See  Gros's  Timoleon  of  Corinth. 


Expression — Miscellaneous  171 

would  be  presumed  from  such  an  action  may  be 
more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  very  limited 
feeling  which  can  be  indicated  by  the  part  of  the 
face  remaining  exposed.  On  account  of  a  neutral- 
izing effect  of  this  kind,  Loefftz's  fine  picture  of  the 
Dead  Christ  at  Munich  is  much  weakened,  for  there 
is  no  stronger  expression  on  the  part  of  the  Virgin 
than  patient  resignation.  Sorrow  may  well  be  dis- 
played by  semi-concealment  of  the  features,  because 
here  the  necessary  expression  may  be  produced  by 
the  eyes  alone. ^  In  ancient  art,  to  half  conceal  the 
face  indicated  discretion,  as  in  the  case  of  a  Pom- 
peian  fresco  where  a  nurse  of  the  young  Neptune, 
handing  him  over  to  a  shepherd  for  education,  has 
her  mouth  and  chin  covered,  the  meaning  of  this 
being  that  she  is  acquainted  with  the  high  birth  of 
the  boy,  but  must  not  reveal  it. 

THE   SMILE 

A  pronounced  smile  in  nature  is  always  transi- 
tory, and  hence  should  be  avoided  when  possible 
in  a  painting.  The  only  smile  that  does  not  tire 
is  that  which  is  so  faint  as  to  appear  to  be  perma- 
nent in  the  expression,  and  it  has  been  the  aim 
of  many  painters  to  produce  this  smile.  An  ex- 
amination of  numerous  pictures  where  a  smile  is 
expressed  in  the  countenance  has  convinced  the 
writer  that  when  either  the  eyes  alone,  or  the  eyes 
and  mouth  together,  are  used  to  indicate  a  smile, 
it  is  invariably   over-pronounced   as  a  suggestive 

a  Leighton's  Captive  Andromache. 


172  Art  Principles 

permanent  featiire,  and  that  in  every  case  of  such 
permanence,  success  arises  from  work  on  the  mouth 
alone. 

The  permanent  smile  was  not  studied  in  Europe 
till  the  Milanese  school  was  founded,  and  in  this 
nearly  every  artist  gave  his  attention  to  it,  following 
the  example  of  Lionardo.  This  great  master,  who 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  principles  of  art,  is 
not  likely  to  have  had  in  his  mind  an  evanescent 
expression  when  he  experimented  with  the  smile, 
and  one  can  hardly  understand  therefore  why  this 
feature  is  almost  invariably  over-emphasized  in  his 
works.  In  his  portrayal  of  women  he  used  both 
eyes  and  mouth  to  bring  about  the  smile,^  and  more 
commonly  than  not  paid  most  attention  to  the  eyes. 
Perhaps  he  had  in  view  the  production  of  a  per- 
manent smile  solely  by  means  of  the  eyes,  which 
play  so  great  a  part  in  general  expression.  In  nature 
it  is  physically  impossible  for  a  smile  to  be  produced 
without  a  faint  variation  in  the  mouth  line,  while 
the  lower  eyelids  may  remain  perfectly  free  from 
any  change  in  light  and  shade,  even  with  a  smile 
more  pronounced  than  is  necessary  for  apparent 
permanence.  In  the  Mona  Lisa  at  Boston, ^^  the 
smile  is  very  faintly  indicated  by  the  eyes,  and  most 
pronounced  at  the  mouth,  while  in  the  famous  Paris 
picture,  the  eyes  are  chiefly  responsible  for  the  smile, 
the  mouth  only  slightly  assisting."  Many  smiling 
faces  were  produced  by  others  of  the  Milanese  school, 
and  as  a  rule  the  mouth  only  was  used,  often  with 

a  An  exception  where  the  mouth  only  is  used  is  a  drawing  for  the 
Madonna  and  Child  with  St.  Anne,  Burlington  House,  London. 


Expression — Miscellaneous  173 

complete  success,  notably  by  B.  Luini,*  Pedrini,^ 
and  Ferrari.*^  Raphael  never  used  the  eyes  to  assist 
in  producing  a  smile,  except  with  the  Child  Christ,^ 
and  in  all  cases  where  he  exhibits  a  smile  in  a  Ma- 
donna^ or  portrait,^  it  appears  definitely  permanent. 
As  a  rule  the  great  artists  of  the  Renaissance  other 
than  the  disciples  of  Lionardo,  rarely  produced  a 
smile  with  the  intention  of  suggesting  a  perma- 
nently happy  expression,  and  in  the  seventeenth 
century  little  attention  was  given  to  it. 

The  great  French  portraitists  of  the  eighteenth 
century  frequently  made  the  smile  a  feature  in 
expression,  and  a  few  of  them,  notably  La  Tour, 
seldom  produced  a  countenance  without  one.  In 
most  cases  the  smile  is  a  little  too  pronounced  for 
permanence,  but  there  are  many  examples  of  a 
faint  and  delicate  smile  which  may  well  suggest  an 
habitual  condition.  Rigaud's  Louis  XV.  as  a  Boy  is 
an  instance, 2  though  here  the  illusion  quickly  passes 
when  we  bring  to  mind  the  other  portraits  of  the 
monarch.  Nattier,^  Boucher,*  Dumont  le  Romain,^ 
Perronneau,^  Chardin,  Roslin,  ajnd  others,  sometimes 

a  Salome,  Uffizi  Gallery,  Florence. 

b  Madonna  and  Child,  Arezzo. 

c  Madonna  and  Child,  Brera,  Milan. 

d  Cowper  Madonna,  Panshanger,  England. 

e  See  Casa  Tempi  Madonna,  Munich;  and  Virgin  with  a  Gold- 
finch, Uffizi. 

f  Portrait  of  a  Young  Man,  Budapest;  and  the  Fomarina,  Bar- 
berini  Gallery,  Florence. 

s  At  Versailles.  h  Madame  Louise,  at  Versailles. 

i  Portrait  of  a  Young  Woman,  the  Louvre. 

i  Two  examples  in  the  group  Madame  Mercier  and  Family,  Louvre. 

k  Madame  Olivier,  Groult  (formerly),  Coll.,  Paris. 


174  Art  Principles 

succeeded,  but  the  French  master  of  the  smile  was 
La  Tour  who  executed  quite  a  dozen  examples  which 
Lionardo  might  have  envied.*  Of  British  artists 
Romney  was  the  most  adept  in  producing  a  per- 
manent smile,^  but  strange  to  say  there  is  no  instance 
of  one  in  his  many  portraits  of  Lady  Hamilton, 
beyond  her  representation  as  a  bacchante.*^  Here 
the  smile  is  far  too  pronounced  for  a  plain  portrait, 
but  a  bacchante  may  reasonably  be  supposed  to  be 
ever  engaged  in  scenes  of  pleasure,  and  hence  the 
feature  does  not  seem  to  be  out  of  place.  Reynolds 
commonly  used  both  eyes  and  mouth  in  creating 
his  smiles,'^  but  Raeburn  was  nearly  equal  to  Rom- 
ney in  the  number  of  his  felicitous  smiles,  while  he 
seldom  exceeded  the  minimum  expression  required 
for  permanence.^  Gainsborough  produced  a  few 
portraits  of  women  with  a  vague  furtive  smile,  sweet 
and  expressive  beyond  degree.^  They  are  invariably 
brought  about  by  a  faint  curvature  of  the  mouth  line. 

THE   OPEN   MOUTH 

If  there  be  one  transient  feature  more  than  an- 
other which  should  be  avoided  in  a  painting,  and 

a  See  Madame  de  la  Popeliniere  and  Mdlle.  Carmago,  both  at 
Saint  Quentin  Museum;  and  Madame  Pompadour,  Louvre. 

b  See  Mrs.  Yates,  Llangattock  Coll. ;  William  Booth,  Lathom  Coll. ; 
and  Mrs.  Tickle,  A.  de  Rothschild  (formerly)  Coll.,  all  England. 

c  T.  Chamberlayne  Coll.,  England. 

<i  For  exceptions  see  Hon.  Lavinia  Bingham,  Spencer  Coll.,  and 
Mrs.  Abington,  Fife  Coll.,  both  England. 

e  See  Farmer's  Wife,  Mitchell  Coll. ;  Mrs.  Lauzun,  National  Gal- 
lery, London;  and  Mrs.  Balfour,  Beith  Coll.,  Scotland. 

f  Lady  Sheffield,  Alice  Rothschild  Coll. ;  and  Mrs.  Leyboume, 
Popham  Coll. 


Expression — Miscellaneous  175 

particularly  in  the  principal  figure,  it  is  a  wide-open 
mouth.  Necessarily,  after  a  short  acquaintance 
with  a  picture  containing  such  a  feature,  either  the 
mouth  appears  to  be  kept  open  by  a  wedge,  or,  as 
in  the  case  of  a  laugh,  the  face  is  likely  to  wear  an 
abnormal  expression  approaching  to  idiocy,  for  it  is 
altogether  contrary  to  experience  of  normal  persons 
in  real  life,  for  a  mouth  to  be  kept  open  longer  than 
for  an  instant  or  two.  Hence  the  first  artists  have 
studiously  refrained  from  exhibiting  a  wide-open 
mouth,  or  indeed  one  that  is  open  at  all  except  to 
such  an  extent  that  the  parted  lips  appear  a  per- 
manent condition.  But  a  few  great  men  have  erred 
in  the  matter.  Thus,  Mantegna  shows  the  child 
Christ  with  the  mouth  widely  open  in  a  half -vacant 
and  half -startled  expression,  which  is  immediately 
repelling.^  Dosso  Dossi  has  several  pictures  much 
injured  by  the  feature,^  and  in  Ercole  di  Roberti's 
Concert,  no  less  than  three  mouths  are  wide  open.^ 
One  of  the  figures  in  Velasquez's  Three  Musicians 
opens  his  mouth  far  too  widely, '^  while  Hals  has  half 
a  dozen  pictures  with  the  defect.^  A  rare  mistake 
was  made  by  Carlo  Dolci  when  showing  Christ  with 
His  mouth  open  wide  in  the  act  of  utterance,^  and 
Mengs  erred  similarly  in  St.  John  Baptist  Preaching.^ 

a  Virgin  and  Child  at  Bergamo. 

b  Notably  A  Muse  Instructing  a  Court  Poet,  and  Nymph  and 
Satyr,  Pitti  Palace. 

c  National  Gallery,  London.  d  Berlin  Gallery. 

e  See  Merry  Company  at  Table,  Met.  Mus.,  N.  Y.,  and  similar 
pictures. 

i  Christ  Blessing,  a  single  figure  picture. 

K  Hermitage,  Petrograd. 


176  Art  Principles 

In  more  modem  times  the  fault  is  seldom  noticeable 
among  artists  of  repute,  though  occasionally  a  bad 
example  occurs,  as  in  Winslow  Homer's  All's  Well.* 
Even  when  an  open  mouth  seems  unavoidable,  the 
effect  is  by  no  means  neutralized.^ 

When  the  blemish  is  in  an  accessory  figure,  it  is  of 
lesser  importance  as  there  it  becomes  an  incidental 
circumstance  on  the  mind  of  the  observer.  Thus, 
in  Reynolds's  Infant  Hercules,  where  Alcmena, 
on  seeing  the  child  holding  the  snakes,  opens  her 
mouth  with  surprise  and  alarm,  the  action  of  the 
central  figure  is  so  strong  that  the  importance  of 
the  others  present  is  comparatively  insignificant. *= 
Nevertheless  in  a  Pompeian  fresco  of  the  same 
subject,  care  has  been  taken  to  close  the  mouth 
of  Alcmena.  Where  the  design  represents  several 
persons  singing,  it  is  well  possible  to  indicate  the 
action  without  showing  the  mouths  open,  as  in 
Raphael's  St.  Cecilia.^  In  a  picture  of  a  like  sub- 
ject, with  the  Saint  in  the  centre  of  a  group  of  five 
singers,  Domenichino  shows  only  the  two  outside 
figures  with  open  mouths,  and  one  of  these  is  in 
profile.  There  are  several  works  where  David  is 
seen  singing  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  harp,  but 
though  his  mouth  is  open,  the  figure  is  in  profile, 
and  the  lips  are  hidden  by  moustache  and  beard. ^ 

It  may  be  observed,  however,  that  in  certain  cases 

a  Boston  Museum,  U.  S.  A.     See  Plate  15. 

b  As  in  Dow's  The  Dentist,  Schwerin  Mus.,  and  a  similar  work  at 
the  Louvre. 

c  Hermitage,  Petrograd.  ^  Bologna  Museum. 

-  For  example,  Rubens's  David's  Last  Song,  Frankfort  Museum. 


Winslow  Homer's  All's  Well 
{Boston  Museum) 


(See  page  176) 


Expression — Miscellaneous         177 

artificial  conditions  may  render  an  open  mouth  in 
a  picture  of  comparatively  little  significance.  A 
painted  laugh  for  instance  may  only  become  ob- 
jectionable to  the  observer  when  the  work  is  con- 
stantly before  him;  but  when  it  is  in  a  picture 
gallery  and  he  sees  it  but  rarely,  the  lasting  character 
of  the  feature  is  not  presented  to  his  mind.  The 
Laughing  Cavalier  of  Franz  Hals,  though  violating 
the  principle,  does  not  appear  in  bad  taste  to  the 
average  visitor  to  the  Wallace  Collection.  In  the 
case  of  Rembrandt's  portrait  of  himself  with  Saskia 
on  his  knee,  where  the  artist  has  his  lips  parted  in 
the  act  of  laughing,  there  is  an  additional  reason  why 
the  transient  expression  should  not  tire.  Because 
of  the  number  of  self-portraits  he  painted,  the  coun- 
tenance of  Rembrandt  is  quite  familiar  to  most 
picture  gallery  visitors,  and  to  these  the  laugh  in 
the  Dresden  picture  could  not  possibly  pass  as  an 
habitual  expression. 

CONTRASTS 

Designs  specially  built  up  for  the  purpose  of  con- 
trasting two  or  more  attributes  or  conditions  are 
almost  invariably  uninteresting  unless  the  motive 
be  hidden  behind  a  definite  action  which  appears 
to  control  the  scheme.  This  is  because  of  the 
difficulty  of  otherwise  connecting  the  personages 
contrasted  in  a  particular  action  of  common 
understanding.  A  design  of  Hercules  and  Omphale 
affords  a  superior  contrast  of  strength  and  beauty 
to  a  composition  of  Strength  and  Wisdom.  In  each 
case  a  herculean  figure  and  a  lovely  woman  represent 


178  Art  Principles 

the  respective  qualities,  but  in  the  first  the  figures 
are  connected  by  expression  and  action,  and  in  the 
second  no  connection  can  be  estabHshed.  So  in 
contrasting  beauty  of  mind  with  that  of  form,  this 
is  much  better  represented  by  such  a  subject  as 
Hippocrates  and  the  Bride  of  Perdiccas  than  in  the 
Venetian  manner  of  figures  unconnected  in  the  de- 
sign. And  in  respect  of  conditions,  Frith's  picture 
of  Poverty  and  Wealth,  where  a  carriage  full  of 
fashionable  women  drives  through  a  poor  section 
of  London,  has  little  more  than  a  topographical 
interest,  but  in  a  subject  such  as  The  First  Visit  of 
Croesus  to  ^sop,  the  contrast  between  poverty  and 
wealth  would  deeply  strike  the  imagination. 

In  contrasts  of  good  and  evil,  vice  and  virtue,  and 
similar  subjects,  it  is  inferior  art  to  represent  the 
evil  character  by  an  ugly  figure.  As  elsewhere 
pointed  out,  deformity  of  any  kind  injures  the  aes- 
thetic value  of  a  picture  because  it  tends  to  neutral- 
ize the  pleasurable  feeling  derived  from  the  beauty 
present.  The  poet  may  join  physical  deformity 
with  beauty  because  he  can  minimize  the  defect 
with  words,  but  the  painter  has  no  such  recourse.^* 
A  deformed  personage  in  a  composition  is  therefore 
to  be  deprecated  unless  as  a  necessary  accessory  in 
a  historical  work,  in  which  case  he  must  be  subor- 
dinated to  the  fullest  extent  possible.  The  figure  of 
Satan,  of  an  exaggerated  satyr  type,  has  often  been 
introduced  into  subjects  such  as  the  Temptation 
of  Christ,   though  not  by  artists  of  the  first  rank.^ 

a  See  examples  by  Ary  Scheflfer,  Luxembourg;  and  H.  Thoma, 
Bumitz  Coll. 


Expression — Miscellaneous  179 

Such  pictures  do  not  live  as  high  class  works  of  art 
however  they  be  painted.  Correggio  makes  a  con- 
trast of  Vice  and  Virtue  in  two  paintings,^  repre- 
senting Vice  by  a  man  bound,  but  usually  in  the 
mature  time  of  the  Renaissance,  Vice  was  shown  as 
a  woman,  either  beautiful  in  features,  or  with  her 
face  partly  hidden,  various  accessories  indicating 
her  character.  A  notable  exception  is  Salviati's 
Justice  where  a  hideous  old  woman  takes  the  r61e 
of  Vice.^  Even  in  cases  where  a  witch  has  to  be 
introduced,  as  in  representations  of  Samuel's  Curse, 
it  is  not  necessary  to  follow  the  example  of  Salvator 
Rosa,  and  render  her  with  deformed  features,  for 
there  are  several  excellent  works  where  this  defect 
is  avoided. *= 

An  effective  design  with  the  purpose  of  contrasting 
the  ages  of  man  is  not  possible,  firstly,  because  the 
number  of  ages  represented  must  be  very  limited, 
and,  secondly,  for  the  reason  that  the  figures  cannot 
be  connected  together  in  a  free  and  easy  manner. 
Hence  all  such  pictures  have  been  failures,  though  a 
few  great  artists  have  attempted  the  subject.  Titian 
tried  it  with  two  children,  a  young  couple,  and  an 
old  man,  assorting  the  personages  casually  in  a  land- 
scape without  attempting  to  connect  them  together 
in  action.'^  At  about  the  same  time  Lotto  produced 
a  contrast,  also  with  three  ages  represented,  namely, 
a  boy,  a  young  man,  and  an  elderly  man.^  These 
personages  sit  together  as  if  they  had  been  photo- 

a  Both  at  the  Louvre.  b  The  Bargello,  Florence. 

c  As  in  K.  Meyer's  picture. 

d  Bridgewater  Coll.,  England.  e  pitti  Palace,  Florence. 


i8o  Art  Principles 

graphed  for  the  purpose,  without  a  ray  of  intelli- 
gence passing  between  them.  But  this  is  far  better 
than  Grien's  Three  Ages,^  for  here  the  artist  has 
strangely  confused  life  and  death,  exhibiting  a  grown 
maiden,  a  middle-aged  woman,  and  a  skin-coated 
skeleton  holding  an  hour-glass.  The  best  design  of 
the  subject  is  Van  Dyck's  Four  Ages.^  He  shows 
a  child  asleep  near  a  young  woman  who  is  selling 
flowers  to  a  soldier,  and  an  old  man  is  in  the  back- 
ground. There  is  thus  a  presumed  connection  be- 
tween three  of  the  personages,  but  naturally  the 
composition  is  somewhat  stiff.  The  only  other  de- 
sign worth  mentioning  is  by  Boecklin,  who  also 
represents  four  ages.*=  Two  children  play  in  the 
background  of  a  landscape;  a  little  farther  back 
is  a  young  woman;  then  a  cavalier  on  horseback; 
and  finally  on  the  top  of  an  arch  an  old  man  whom 
Death  in  the  form  of  a  skeleton  is  about  to  strike. 
But  here  again  there  is  no  connection  between  the 
figures,  the  consequent  formality  half  destroying  the 
aesthetic  value  of  the  work.  From  these  examples 
than  which  there  is  none  better,  it  may  be  gauged 
that  it  is  hopeless  to  expect  a  good  design  from  a 
subject  where  the  ages  of  man  are  contrasted.  If 
represented  at  all,  the  ages  should  be  contrasted  in 
separate  pictures,  as  Lancret  painted  them. 

The  practice  of  presenting  nude  with  clothed 
figures  where  the  subject  does  not  absolutely  compel 
it,  is  commonly  supposed  to  be  for  the  purpose  of 
contrast.     This  may  have  been  the  object  in  some 

a  The  Prado,  Madrid.  ^  Vincenza  Museum, 

c  Vita  somnium  breve. 


Expression— Miscellaneous         i8i 

cases,  but  in  very  few  is  the  interest  in  the  contrast 
not  outweighed  by  the  bizarre  appearance  of  the 
work.  As  a  rule  in  these  pictures  there  is  nothing 
in  the  expressions  or  actions  of  the  personages  de- 
picted to  suggest  a  reason  for  the  absence  of  clothes 
from  some  of  them,  and  so  to  the  average  observer 
they  form  a  "problem"  class  of  painting.  The  first 
important  work  of  the  kind  executed  was  Sebastiano 
del  Piombo's  Concert,  in  which  the  group  consists 
of  two  nude  women,  one  with  a  reed  pipe,  and  two 
men  attired  in  Venetian  costume,  of  whom  one 
handles  a  guitar.*  The  figures  are  very  beautiful 
and  the  landscape  is  superb,  but  as  one  cannot 
account  for  the  nude  figures  in  an  open-air  musical 
party,  the  aesthetic  value  of  the  work  is  largely 
diminished.  This  painting  has  suggested  several 
designs  to  modern  artists,  the  most  notable  being 
Manet's  Dejeuner  sur  I'Herbe,  where  a  couple  of 
nude  women  with  two  men  dressed  in  modem  clothes 
are  shown  in  a  picnic  on  the  grass.  Not  only  is  the 
scheme  inexplicable,  but  the  invention  is  so  ex- 
travagant as  to  provoke  the  lowest  of  suggestions. 
In  a  composition  of  this  kind  only  a  great  artist 
can  build  up  a  harmonious  design. 

Titian's  picture  known  as  Sacred  and  Profane 
Love,''  where  the  figure  of  a  nude  woman  is  opposed 
to  one  clothed,  may  really  signify  any  of  a  dozen 
ideas,  but  the  artist  probably  had  no  other  scheme 
in  his  mind  than  to  represent  different  types  of 
beautiful  women.     Crowe   and  Cavalcaselli's  sug- 

a  At  the  Louvre.     Formerly  attributed  to  Giorgione. 
b  Borghese  Gallery,  Rome. 


i82  Art  Principles 

gested  title  of  L'Amour  ingenu  et  TAmour  satisfait, 
was  certainly  never  conceived  by  Titian,  nor  is 
Burckhardt's  proposal,  Love  and  Prudery,  possible 
in  view  of  the  flowers  in  the  hand  of  the  draped 
figure.  In  any  case  this  picture  is  the  greatest  of 
its  kind,  for  the  composition  is  so  delicate  and  har- 
monious, and  the  art  so  perfect,  as  to  render  its 
precise  meaning  a  matter  of  little  consideration. 
Another  picture  of  Sacred  and  Profane  Love  was 
painted  by  Grien.*  He  shows  a  nude  woman  from 
whom  Cupid  has  just  drawn  the  drapery,  and  another 
woman  concealing  her  figure  with  loose  drapery. 
The  effect  is  weak.  The  nude  figures  in  the  well- 
known  Drinkers  of  Velasquez  ^  are  undisturbing  be- 
cause they  are  not  very  prominent  in  the  picture, 
but  their  significance  is  not  apparent. 

No  one  has  yet  properly  explained  the  mean- 
ing of  the  nude  male  figures  standing  at  ease  in 
the  background  of  Michelangelo's  celebrated  Holy 
Family,  c  They  are  apparently  pagan  gods,  and  it 
is  suggested  that  the  artist  intended  to  signify  the 
overthrow  of  the  Grecian  deities  by  the  coming  of 
Christ.  Such  an  explanation  might  be  possible  with 
another  painter,  but  it  does  not  accord  with  our  con- 
ception of  the  mind  of  Michelangelo.  A  still  greater 
puzzle  is  offered  by  Luca  Signorelli  who,  in  the  land- 
scape background  of  the  bust  portrait  of  a  man,  shows 
two  nude  men  to  the  right  of  the  portrait,  and  two 
attired  women  at  the  left.*^  It  is  impossible  to  sug- 
gest any  meaning  of  this  extraordinary  invention. 

a  Frankfort  Museum.  b  The  Prado,  Madrid. 

c  Uffizi  Gallery,  Florence.  ^  Berlin  Gallery. 


Expression — Miscellaneous         183 

THE   REPRESENTATION   OF   DEATH 

Death  is  a  subject  inappropriate  to  the  art  of 
painting  except  where  it  is  dealt  with  symbolically 
or  as  an  historical  incident.  Naturally  in  either  of 
these  cases  any  realistic  representation  of  death,  or 
of  distortion  connected  therewith,  should  be  studi- 
ously avoided.  For  while  many  aspects  of  death 
may  not  be  unpleasant  to  the  senses,  its  actual  pre- 
sence— the  cold  immobility;  the  pulseless  soulless, 
decaying  thing;  the  appalling  mirror  of  our  own 
fate — these  things  are  most  unpleasant,  and  hence 
should  have  no  place  in  painting.  In  sculpture, 
represented  in  a  certain  way,  death  is  admissible, 
for  in  marble  or  bronze  a  body  may  be  carved  in- 
dicating only  the  eternal  composure  of  a  beauti- 
ful form.  This  is  how  the  Greeks  showed  death, 
whether  in  the  case  of  a  warrior  fallen  on  the  battle- 
field, or  as  the  twin  brother  of  Sleep.  But  the 
painter  is  less  fortunate :  for  him  death  is  decay. 

The  presence  of  so  many  scenes  of  death  in  the 
paintings  of  the  past  was  the  result  of  accident.  For 
a  long  while  after  the  dawn  of  the  Renaissance,  those 
controlling  churches  and  other  religious  institutions 
of  the  Christians  were  the  chief  and  almost  the  only 
patrons  of  art,  and  they  required  paintings  as  well 
for  didactic  purposes  as  for  decoration.  For  some 
time  pictures  often  took  the  place  of  writing,  where 
comparatively  few  could  read,  in  the  inculcation 
of  Christian  doctrines  and  history,  and  they  were 
largely  used  as  images  before  which  people  could 
kneel  in  prayer.     The  most  important  facts  bearing 


i84  Art  Principles 

upon  Christian  faith  are  concerned  with  death,  and 
so  there  have  been  accumulated  thousands  of  paint- 
ings of  scenes  of  the  Crucifixion,  the  death-beds  of 
saints,  instances  of  martyrdom,  and  so  on.  While 
these  paintings  have  been  highly  useful  as  tending 
to  invite  reverence  for  a  sublime  creed,  it  would  be 
injurious  to  suggest  that  generally  they  take  a  high 
place  in  art.  Some  of  them  do,  but  the  very  large 
number  of  them  which  indicate  dying  agony,  or 
recent  death  with  all  its  mortal  changes,  must  not 
be  approved  from  a  strict  art  point  of  view,  for  any 
beauty  which  may  be  present  apart  from  the  sub- 
ject is  instantly  neutralized  by  the  pain  and  horror 
arising  from  the  invention.  But  it  is  evidently 
unnecessary  to  produce  such  pictures,  even  in  the 
case  of  the  Crucifixion,  for  there  are  ample  works  in 
existence  to  show  that  the  face  and  body  of  Christ 
can  be  so  presented  as  to  be  free  from  indications 
of  physical  suffering  or  decay. 

But  if  we  are  to  protest  against  designs  exhibiting 
forbidding  aspects  of  death  in  sacred  works,  what 
can  we  say  of  the  pictures  of  executions,  massacres, 
plagues,  and  so  on,  which  ever  and  again  have  been 
produced  since  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century? 
Deeds  of  heroism  or  self-sacrifice  on  the  battlefield 
where  bodies  of  the  fallen  may  be  outlined  are  well, 
but  simple  wholesale  murders  as  presented  by  Ben- 
jamin-Constant, Heim,  and  fifty  others,  where  the 
motive  does  not  pretend  to  be  anything  else  than 
massacre  or  other  ghastly  event,  can  only  live  as 
examples  of  degraded  art.  There  may  be  something 
said  for  Verestchagin,  who  painted  heaps  of  heads 


Expression — Miscellaneous         185 

and  skulls,  and  scattered  corpses,  in  order  to  show 
the  evils  of  war,  but  if  the  arts  are  to  be  used  at  all 
for  such  a  purpose,  the  poet  or  orator  would  be  much 
more  impressive  because  he  could  veil  the  hideous 
side  of  the  subject  with  pathos  and  imagery,  and 
further  differentiate  between  just  and  unjust  wars. 
The  painter  is  powerless  to  do  these  things.  He  can 
only  represent  the  horrors  of  war  by  depicting  hor- 
rible things  which  is  entirely  beyond  the  province 
of  his  art.  The  purpose  of  art  is  to  give  pleasure, 
and  if  the  design  descend  below  the  line  where 
displeasure  begins,  then  the  art  is  no  more. 

How  easy  it  is  for  the  aesthetic  value  of  a  picture 
to  be  lowered  by  the  representation  of  a  corpse,  is 
shown  in  three  celebrated  paintings — the  anatomical 
works  of  Rembrandt^  and  De  Keyser.^  Probably 
these  works  were  ordered  to  honour  the  surgeons  or 
schools  concerned,  but  the  object  would  have  been 
better  served  by  a  composition  such  as  Eakin's 
Dr.  Cross's  Surgical  Clinic.  "=  Here  the  leading  fig- 
ure is  also  giving  a  lesson  to  students,  and  practical 
demonstration  is  proceeding,  but  there  is  no  skeleton 
or  corpse  to  damage  the  picture.  Fromentin  said 
that  the  Tulp  work  left  him  very  cold,*^  and  although 
he  endeavoured  to  find  technical  ground  for  this, 
it  is  more  than  likely  that  the  principal  reason 
lay  in  the  involuntary  mental  disturbance  brought 

a  Lesson  in  Anatomy  of  Professor  Tulp,  and  the  fragment  of  a 
similar  work,  both  at  The  Hague, 
b  Rijks  Museum,  Amsterdam, 
c  Jefferson  Medical  College,  Philadelphia. 
d  Masters  of  Other  Days. 


1 86  Art  Principles 

about  by  the  corpse.  Another  fine  design  largely 
injured  by  corporeal  evidence  of  death  is  Ingres's 
(Edipus  and  the  Sphinx,^  where  a  foot  rises  out  of 
a  hole  in  the  rock  near  the  Sphinx,  the  presumption 
of  course  being  that  the  body  of  a  man  who  had 
failed  with  the  riddle  had  lately  been  thrown  there. 
The  invention  is  most  deplorable  in  such  a  picture. 
The  use  of  a  skeleton  as  a  symbol  of  death  in 
painting  seems  to  have  been  unusual  during  the 
Renaissance  till  towards  the  end  of  the  fifteenth 
century.  The  earliest  artist  of  note  in  this  period 
to  adopt  it,  was  Jean  Prevost  who  represented  a 
man  taking  a  letter  from  a  skeleton  without  seeing 
the  messenger.^  Then  came  Grien  who  painted 
three  works  of  the  kind.  In  the  first  Death  holds 
an  hour-glass  at  the  back  of  a  woman,  and  points 
to  the  position  of  the  sand  <= ;  in  the  second  the 
bony  figure  has  clutched  a  girl  by  the  hair  "^ ;  and  the 
third  represents  a  skeleton  apparently  kissing  a  girl.^ 
They  are  all  hideous  works,  and  might  well  have 
acted  as  a  warning  to  succeeding  artists.  After 
Grien  the  use  of  a  skeleton  in  design  was  practically 
confined  to  the  smaller  German  masters  till  the 
middle  of  the  second  half  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
when  it  disappeared  from  serious  work.  From  this 
time  on,  for  the  next  three  centuries  artists  of  repute 
rarely  introduced  a  skeleton  into  a  painting,  though 
it  is  to  be  found  occasionally  in  engravings.  One 
might  have  supposed  that  the  unsightly  form  had 

a  At  the  Lx)uvre.  ^  Old  Man  and  Death,  Bruges, 

c  Imperial  Gallery,  Vienna.       d  Girl  and  Death,  Basle  Museum. 
e  Basle  Museum. 


Expression — Miscellaneous         187 

been  abandoned  with  the  imps,  evil  spirits,  and  other 
crudities  of  past  days,  but  it  was  not  to  be.  The 
search  for  novelties  in  recent  times  has  only  resulted 
in  the  resuscitation  of  bygone  eccentricities,  and  we 
must  not  be  surprised  that  the  skeleton  is  amongst 
them. 

Modern  artists  have  displayed  considerable  in- 
genuity in  the  use  of  the  skeleton,  but  the  results 
have  necessarily  only  succeeded  in  degrading  the 
art.  Rethel  figures  a  skeleton  in  the  costume  of  a 
monk  who  is  ringing  a  bell  at  a  dance.^  Several  of 
the  dancers  have  fallen  dead,  apparently  from  plague, 
and  the  whole  scene  is  ghastly.  Henneberg  has  a 
Fortune  allegory  in  which  Death  is  about  to  seize 
a  horseman  who  is  chasing  a  nude  woman, ^  this 
design  being  a  slight  modification  of  a  variety  of 
prints  executed  in  the  sixteenth  century.  Thoma 
uses  a  skeleton  in  a  most  bizarre  manner.  He  sub- 
stitutes it  for  the  serpent  in  a  picture  of  Adam  and 
Eve,'=  and  in  another  work  associates  it  with  Cupid.'^ 
Two  lovers  are  talking,  and  Death  stands  behind 
the  woman  whose  hat  Cupid  is  lifting.  A  terrible 
picture  with  a  political  bearing  was  painted  by  Uhde.  * 
It  represents  a  crowd  of  revolutionists  rushing  to- 
wards a  bridge,  while  a  skeleton  in  modem  costume 
waves  a  sword  and  cheers  them  on.  These  instances 
suffice  to  indicate  the  difficulty  in  the  production  of 
a  fine  work  of  art  with  so  hideous  a  form  as  a  skeleton 
thrown  into  prominence. 

a  Death  at  a  Masked  Ball.  b  Race  for  Fortune. 

^  Sin  and  Death.  d  Cupid  and  Death, 

e  Revenge. 


1 88  Art  Principles 

How  simply  one  may  avoid  the  introduction  of  a 
skeleton  in  a  design  concerned  with  death,  is  shown 
by  an  example  where  three  artists  deal  with  the  same 
motive — Death,  the  Friend.  The  first  composition 
shows  an  old  man  sitting  dead  in  a  chair  while  a 
skeleton  costumed  as  a  monk,  tolls  a  bell^:  in  the 
second  there  is  also  an  old  man  in  a  chair,  but  an 
Angel  with  a  scythe  is  substituted  for  the  skeleton^ 
in  the  third  an  Angel  with  huge  folded  wings  form- 
ing an  oval  framework  for  her  figure,  leans  over  the 
body  of  a  child  which  has  its  face  hidden. *=  The 
second  design  is  a  vast  improvement  over  the  first, 
but  the  third  is  incomparably  the  best  of  the  three. 
It  may  be  remarked  that  a  scythe  is  too  trivial 
an  emblem  for  the  Angel  of  Death,  for  whom 
indeed  an  emblem  of  any  kind  is  only  admis- 
sible when  Death  is  represented  as  the  result  of 
eternal  justice,  in  which  case  a  flaming  sword  is 
appropriate. 

Very  rarely  indeed  can  a  good  picture  be  made  out 
of  a  funeral  scene.  Such  a  scene  attending  the  death 
of  a  great  man  may  be  fitly  produced,  so  long  as 
the  imagination  can  be  used  in  the  composition; 
that  is  to  say,  if  there  are  few  or  no  records  of  the 
actual  funeral*^;  but  paintings  relating  to  the  modem 
burial  of  unnamed  persons  are  of  little  value  as  works 
of  art,  for  the  imagination  of  the  artist  cannot  extend 
beyond  unpleasant  prosaic  incidents  of  common 
acquaintance.     The  purpose  of  the  funeral  scenes 

a  Woodcut  by  A.  Rethel.  ^  Lithograph  by  O.  Redon. 

c  Painting  by  G.  F.  Watts. 

d  As  in  Rubens's  Funeral  of  Decius,  Vienna. 


Expression — Miscellaneous  189 

of  Courbet  ^  and  Anne  Ancher  ^  has  never  been  ex- 
plained ;  and  the  various  interiors,  each  with  a  coffin 
and  distracted  relatives  of  the  dead,  by  Wiertz,'^  Dals- 
gaard,*^  and  other  modern  artists,  are  capable  of  bring- 
ing only  misery  instead  of  pleasure  to  the  observer. 

But  while  funerals  are  unsuitable  for  the  painter, 
interior  scenes  where  death  has  occurred  and  friends 
are  watching  the  body,  ofifer  special  inducements  to 
artists,  because  the  perfect  stillness  of  the  living 
persons  represented  may  be  properly  assumed,  and 
so  the  illusion  of  life  is  little  likely  to  be  disturbed 
through  the  non-completion  of  an  indicated  action. 
On  this  account  these  works  appear  very  impressive 
when  well  executed,  and  they  may  take  high  rank 
even  when  the  artist  is  limited  in  his  scope  by  the 
conditions  of  an  actual  scene.  Very  little  is  required 
however  to  destroy  the  illusion  of  continuity.  In 
Kampf 's  picture  of  the  lying-in-state  of  William  I.  ,* 
where  many  watchers  are  shown  who  are  presumed 
to  be  motionless,  a  boy  in  the  middle  distance  in  the 
act  of  walking,  is  a  most  disturbing  element.  An 
example  where  an  illusion  of  continuity  is  perfectly 
maintained  is  Orchardson's  Borgia,  where  Ccesar 
Borgia  stands  in  contemplation  over  the  body  of 
his  poisoned  victim.  The  silence  indicated  appears 
practically  as  permanent  as  the  painted  design,  for 
any  reasonable  time  spent  by  the  observer  in  ex- 
amining the  picture,  is  not  likely  to  be  longer  than 
that  during  which  Caesar  may  be  presumed  to  have 

a  The  Burial  at  Omans.  b  The  Funeral. 

c  The  Orphans.  d  The  Child's  Coffin. 

e  The  Night  of  March  31,  T888,  at  BerUn. 


190  Art  Principles 

remained  still  at  the  actual  occurrence.  Scenes  of 
approaching  death  may  be  arranged  to  produce  a 
similar  illusion,  as  for  instance  where  those  present 
are  praying,  or  a  single  figure  is  waiting  for  the  life 
to  pass  from  the  sick  person. 

Little  attention  has  been  paid  in  art  to  the  expres- 
sion of  dying  persons.  There  are  many  pictures 
representing  celebrated  men  and  women  in  their 
dying  moments,  but  very  few  of  them  exhibit  an 
expression  of  noble  resignation  and  fearlessness, 
qualities  which  are  naturally  associated  with  a  great 
man  as  his  end  draws  near.  No  doubt  the  artist  is 
often  limited  in  his  invention  by  the  actual  circum- 
stances of  the  death  scene,  as  in  Copley's  Death 
of  Chatham,^  for  the  statesman  was  unconscious  at 
the  moment  of  representation.  Other  than  this  the 
best  known  works  of  the  kind  relate  to  the  death 
of  Seneca,^  Queen  Elizabeth,''  and  General  Wolfe.*^ 
In  the  last  instance  only  is  there  a  fine  expression. 
How  it  was  that  Rubens  missed  his  opportunity 
with  Seneca  is  hard  to  understand.  The  presence 
of  a  clerk  taking  down  the  utterances  of  a  philosopher 
as  he  bleeds  to  death,  gives  the  design  a  theatrical 
appearance,  and  removes  any  suggestion  of  uncon- 
cerned resignation  which  might  have  arisen.  One  of 
the  most  powerful  designs  in  existence  relating  to 
approaching  death,  is  a  sculptured  figure  in  bronze 
of  Hercules  contemplating  death. ^    The  demi-god 

a  National  Gallery,  London.  b  By  Rubens,  at  Munich. 

c  By  Delaroche,  at  the  Louvre. 

d  By  Benjamin  West,  Westminster  Coll.,  London. 

e  By  A.  PoUaiuolo,  Frick  Coll.,  New  York.     See  Plate  i6s9. 


Hercules  Contemplating  Death,  in  Bronze,  by  PoUaiuolo 

{Frick  Collection)  (See  page  190) 


Expression — Miscellaneous         191 

is  represented  standing  on  an  altar.  His  left  foot 
is  raised  upon  the  skull  of  an  ox ;  his  head  is  slightly 
bent,  and  the  whole  attitude  suggests  a  few  moments 
of  rest  while  he  contemplates  his  coming  fate.  The 
conception  is  as  fine  as  the  subject  is  rare. 

The  artist  should  glorify  death  if  possible,  but  he 
can  only  do  this  when  the  subject  has  a  general 
application.  Many  painters  have  introduced  the 
Angel  of  Death  into  scenes  where  death  has  occurred, 
and  have  thus  converted  them  into  work  of  pathos 
and  beauty.  Notable  examples  of  this  are  Watts's 
Death,  the  Friend,  already  referred  to,  and  H.  Levy's 
Young  Girl  and  Death,  where  the  Angel  gently 
clasps  the  body  of  a  girl  whose  face  is  hidden.  One 
of  the  finest  designs  of  the  kind  is  Lard's  Glory 
Forgets  not  Obscure  Heroes.  On  a  battlefield,  where 
all  else  has  gone,  lies  the  body  of  a  soldier  over  whom 
stoops  a  lovely  winged  figure  who  raises  the  head  of 
the  hero,  and  seems  to  throw  a  halo  of  glory  over 
him. a  In  historical  paintings  the  appearance  of 
sleep  is  often  given  to  a  dead  body,  as  in  Cogniet's 
Tintoretto  Painting  his  Dead  Daughter,  a  pathetic 
picture,  bringing  to  mind  the  story  of  Luca  Signorelli 
painting  his  dead  son.^ 

a  The  design  for  this  picture  was  probably  suggested  by  Longe- 
pied's  fine  sculptured  group  of  Immortality  at  the  Louvre,  the  idea 
of  which  was  no  doubt  drawn  from  Canova's  L' Amour  et  Psyche. 
There  are  Tangara  groups  and  fragments  of  larger  works  in  existence 
showing  that  the  Greeks  executed  many  designs  of  a  similar 
character. 

^  See  also  Girodet's  Burial  of  Atala,  and  Le  Brun's  Death  of  Cato. 


CHAPTER  XII 

LANDSCAPE 

Limitations  of  the  landscape  painter — Illusion  of  opening  distance — 
Illusion  of  motion  in  landscape — Moonlight  scenes — Transient 
conditions. 

Considered  as  a  separate  branch  of  the  painter's 
art,  landscape  is  on  a  comparatively  low  plane,  be- 
cause the  principal  signs  with  which  it  deals,  and 
the  arrangement  of  them  to  form  a  view,  may  be 
varied  indefinitely  without  a  sense  of  incongruity 
arising.  Thus  there  can  be  no  ideal  in  the  art ;  that 
is  to  say,  no  ideal  can  be  conceived  which  is  general 
in  its  character.  The  artist  can  aspire  to  no  definite 
goal:  his  imagination  is  limited  to  the  arrangement 
of  things  which  are  inanimate  and  expressionless. 
He  may  produce  sensorial,  but  not  intellectual, 
beauty.  The  nobler  human  attributes  and  passions, 
as  wisdom,  courage,  spiritual  exaltation,  patriotism, 
cannot  be  connected  with  landscape,  and  so  it  is 
unable  to  produce  in  the  mind  the  elevation  of 
thought  and  grandeur  of  sentiment  which  are  the 
sweetest  blossoms  of  the  tree  of  art.^" 

Another  drawback  in  landscape  is  the  necessity 
for  painting  it  on  an  extraordinarily  reduced  scale. 
Because  of  this  the  highest  qualities  of  beauty  in 

192 


Landscape  193 

nature — grandeur  and  sublimity — can  only  with 
difficulty  be  suggested  on  canvas,  for  actual  magni- 
tude is  requisite  for  the  production  of  either  of  these 
qualities  in  any  considerable  degree.  A  volcano  in 
eruption  has  no  force  at  all  in  a  painting,  a  result 
which  is  due,  not  so  much  to  the  inability  of  the 
painter  to  represent  moving  smoke  and  fire,  as  to 
the  impossibility  of  depicting  their  enormous  masses. 
The  disability  of  the  painter  in  respect  of  the  repre- 
sentation of  magnitude  is  readily  seen  in  the  case  of 
a  cathedral  interior.  This  may  or  may  not  have  the 
quality  of  grandeur,  but  a  picture  cannot  differen- 
tiate between  one  that  has,  and  one  that  has  not, 
because  no  feeling  of  grandeur  can  arise  in  looking 
at  a  painted  interior,  the  element  of  actual  space 
being  absent. 

Seeing  that  an  ideal  in  landscape  is  impossible, 
the  landscape  painter  cannot  improve  upon  nature. 
In  the  case  of  the  human  figure  the  painter  may 
improve  upon  experience  by  collecting  excellencies 
from  different  models  and  putting  them  into  one 
form,  thus  creating  what  would  be  universally  re- 
garded as  ideal  physical  beauty;  and  he  may  give 
to  this  form  an  expression  of  spiritual  nobility  which 
is  also  beyond  experience  because  it  would  imply 
the  absence  of  inferior  qualities  inseparable  from 
man  in  nature.  Thus  to  the  physical,  he  adds  intel- 
lectual beauty.  Such  a  perfect  form  may  be  said 
to  be  an  improvement  upon  nature,  for  it  is  not 
only  beyond  experience,  but  is  nature  purified.  But 
the  landscape  painter  cannot  improve  upon  the  signs 

which  nature  provides.     He  may  vary  the  parts  of 
13 


194  Art  Principles 

a  tree  as  he  will,  but  it  would  never  be  recognized 
as  beyond  possible  experience  unless  it  were  a  mon- 
strosity/' And  even  if  he  could  improve  upon 
experience  with  his  signs,  this  would  help  him  but 
little,  for  the  beauty  of  a  landscape  depends  upon  the 
relation  of  the  signs  to  each  other,  and  not  upon  the 
beauty  of  the  separate  signs  which  vary  in  every 
work  with  the  character  of  the  design.  In  colour  also 
the  painter  cannot  apply  to  his  landscape  an  appro- 
priate harmony  which  the  sun  is  incapable  of  giving. 
From  all  this  it  follows  that  the  aesthetic  value  of  a 
landscape  depends  entirely  upon  its  correspondence 
with  nature. 

A  good  landscape  must  necessarily  be  invented, 
because  it  is  impossible  to  reproduce  the  particular 
beauty  of  a  natural  scene.  ^^  This  beauty  is  due  to 
a  relation  of  parts  of  the  view,  infinite  in  number,  to 
each  other,  but  what  this  relation  is  cannot  be  deter- 
mined by  the  observer.  Further,  whatever  be  the 
relation,  the  continuous  changing  light  and  atmos- 
pheric effects  bring  about  a  constant  variation  in 
the  character  of  the  beauty.  It  is  possible  for  an 
actual  view  to  suggest  to  the  artist  a  scheme  for  a 
beautiful  landscape,  but  in  this  the  precise  relation 
of  the  parts  would  have  to  be  invented  by  the  painter 
and  fixed  by  experiment.  The  principal  features 
from  a  natural  view  may  be  taken  out,  but  not 
those  which  together  bring  about  the  beauty.  There 
is  no  great  landscape  in  existence  which  was  painted 
for  the  purpose  of  representing  a  particular  view. 
There  have  of  course  been  scenes  painted  to  order, 
even  by  notable  artists,  but  these  only  serve  the 


Landscape  i95 

purpose  of  record,  or  as  mementoes.  The  great 
view  of  The  Hague,  painted  by  Van  Goyen  under 
instructions  from  the  syndics  of  the  town,  is  the 
feeblest  of  his  works,  and  the  many  pictures  of 
the  kind  executed  by  British  and  German  artists  of 
the  eighteenth  century  have  now  only  a  topographi- 
cal interest.  Constable  painted  numerous  scenes  to 
order,  and  there  are  something  like  forty  views 
of  Salisbury  Cathedral  attributed  to  him,  but  only 
those  in  which  he  could  apply  his  own  invention 
are  of  considerable  aesthetic  value.  A  good  artist 
rarely  introduces  into  a  painting  even  a  small  sketch 
of  a  scene  made  from  nature.  Titian  is  known  to 
have  drawn  numerous  sketches  in  particular  locali- 
ties, but  not  one  has  been  identified  in  his  pictures. 
In  nearly  every  painting  of  Nicholas  Poussin  the 
Roman  Campagna  may  be  recognized,  and  here  he 
must  have  made  thousands  of  sketches  during  the 
forty  years  he  spent  in  the  district,  yet  the  most 
patient  examination  has  failed  to  identify  a  single 
spot  in  his  many  beautiful  views.  So  with  Caspar 
Poussin,  who,  unlike  his  famous  brother-in-law,  oc- 
casionally set  up  his  easel  in  the  open  air ;  and  with 
Claude  who  never  left  off  sketching  in  his  long  life. 
The  greatest  landscapes  are  those  which  are  true 
to  nature  generally,  but  are  untrue  in  respect  of 
any  particular  natural  scene. 

Seeing  that  in  landscape  the  production  of  sen- 
sorial beauty  only  is  within  the  power  of  the  painter, 
and  that  the  beauty  is  enhanced  as  nature  is  the 
more  closely  imitated,  it  is  obvious  that  for  the  work 
to  have  a  permanent  interest,  the  scene  depicted 


196  Art  Principles 

and  the  incidents  therein  should  be  of  common 
experience,  otherwise  the  full  recognition  of  the 
beauty  is  likely  to  be  retarded  by  the  reasoning 
powers  being  involuntarily  set  to  work  in  the  con- 
sideration of  the  exceptional  conditions.  Naturally 
the  term  "common  experience"  has  a  varied  appli- 
cation. What  is  of  common  experience  in  scenery 
among  people  in  a  temperate  climate,  is  rare  or 
unknown  to  those  living  under  the  burning  sun  of 
Africa.  The  artist  is  fully  aware  of  this,  and  in 
designing  his  work  he  takes  into  account  the  experi- 
ence of  the  people  who  are  likely  to  see  his  paintings. 
A  view  of  a  scene  in  the  East,  say  in  Palestine  or 
Siam,  may  be  a  beautiful  work  and  be  recognized  as 
true  because  the  conditions  depicted  are  commonly 
known  to  exist ;  it  would  further  have  an  informative 
value  which  would  result  in  added  pleasure;  but 
among  people  habituated  to  a  temperate  climate  it 
would  tire  more  quickly  than  a  scene  of  a  kind  to 
which  they  are  daily  accustomed.  In  the  one  case 
an  effort,  however  slight,  is  required  to  accommodate 
the  view  to  experience,  and  in  the  other  the  whole 
meaning  of  the  scene  is  instantaneously  identified 
with  its  beauty. 

In  nature  there  is  always  movement  and  sound. 
Even  on  those  rare  days  when  the  wind  has  ceased 
and  the  air  seems  still  and  dead,  there  is  motion 
with  noise  of  some  kind.  A  brook  trickles  by, 
insects  buzz  their  zigzag  way,  and  shadows  vary  as 
the  sun  mounts  or  descends.  But  most  commonly 
there  is  a  breeze  to  rustle  the  trees  and  shrubs,  to 
ripple  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  to  throw  over 


Landscape  i97 

the  scene  evidence  of  life  in  its  ever  charming  variety. 
The  painter  cannot  reproduce  these  movements  and 
sounds.  All  he  represents  is  silent  and  still  as  if 
nature  had  suddenly  suspended  her  work — stayed 
the  tree  as  it  bent  to  the  breeze,  stopped  the  bird  in 
the  act  of  flight,  fixed  the  water,  and  fastened  the 
shadows  to  the  ground.  What  is  there  then  to  com- 
pensate the  artist  for  this  limitation?  Why,  surely 
he  can  represent  nature  as  she  is  at  a  particular 
moment,  over  the  hills  and  valleys,  or  across  great 
plains,  with  sunlight  and  atmosphere  to  mark  the 
breadth  and  distance  and  so  produce  an  illusion  of 
movement  to  delight  the  eyes  of  the  observer  with 
bewitching  surprise.  For  the  eye  as  it  involuntarily 
travels  from  the  foreground  of  the  picture  to  the 
background,  proceeds  from  sign  to  sign,  each  de- 
creasing in  definition  in  conformity  with  the  changes 
in  nature,  till  vague  suggestions  of  form  announce 
that  far  distance  has  been  reached.  The  effect  is 
precisely  that  of  the  cinematograph,  except  that  the 
eye  moves  instead  of  the  picture.  The  apparent 
movement  corresponds  closely  with  the  opening  of 
distance  in  nature  when  one  proceeds  in  a  fast  mov- 
ing vehicle  along  a  road  from  which  a  considerable 
stretch  of  country  may  be  observed.  Very  rarely  is 
the  illusion  so  marked  that  the  apparent  movement 
is  identified  to  the  senses.  When  it  is  so  marked  the 
distance  seems  to  come  forward,  but  is  instantane- 
ously stayed  before  consideration  can  be  brought  to 
bear  upon  it.  Clearly  if  one  specially  seek  the  illu- 
sion, it  becomes  impossible  because  search  implies 
reason  and  an  examination  s'ow  out  of  all  propor- 


198  Art  Principles 

tion  with  the  rapidity  of  the  sensorial  effect.  Acci- 
dent alone  will  bring  about  the  illusion,  for  it  can 
only  arise  when  the  eye  travels  at  a  certain  rate  over 
the  picture,  the  minimum  of  which  rate  is  indeter- 
minable. 

It  is  evident  that  any  landscape  of  fair  size  in 
which  considerable  depth  is  indicated  must  necessa- 
rily produce  an  illusion  of  opening  distance  if  the 
varying  signs  are  sufficiently  numerous  and  properly 
painted  in  accordance  with  the  aerial  perspective; 
and  this  illusion  is  undoubtedly  the  key  to  the 
extraordinary  beauty  observed  in  the  works  of  the 
great  masters  of  landscape  since  Claude  unveiled 
the  secrets  of  distance  painting.  That  the  apparent 
movement  is  rarely  actually  defined  is  immaterial, 
for  it  must  be  there  and  must  act  upon  the  eye,  pro- 
ducing an  involuntary  sensation  which  we  interpret 
as  pleasure  arising  from  admiration  of  the  skill  of 
the  artist  in  giving  us  so  good  a  representation  of 
distance  in  his  imitation. 

As  will  presently  be  seen  there  are  other  kinds  of 
illusion  of  motion  which  may  be  produced  in  land- 
scape, but  this  illusion  of  opening  distance  is  the  most 
important,  and  it  should  be  produced  wherever 
distance  is  represented.  In  nature  the  effect  of  the 
unfolding  of  distance  is  caused  by  a  sequence  of 
signs  apparently  diminishing  in  size  and  clearness  as 
the  eye  travels  back,  and  a  sequence  of  this  kind 
should  be  produced  by  the  artist  in  his  picture.  It 
is  not  sufficient  that  patches  of  colour  of  the  tone 
and  shape  of  sections  of  vegetation,  trees,  varied  soils, 
and  so  on,  be  given,  for  while  these  may  indicate 


0  ^ 


>.  ^ 


Landscape  199 

distance  as  any  perspective  must  do,  yet  an  illusion 
cannot  be  produced  by  such  signs  because  they  are 
not  sufficiently  numerous  for  the  eye  to  experience  a 
cinematographic  effect  when  passing  over  them.  It 
is  not  distance  that  gives  the  beauty,  but  an  illusion 
of  opening  distance,  without  which,  and  presuming 
the  absence  of  any  other  illusion,  only  simple  har- 
monies of  tone  and  inanimate  forms  are  possible. 
Moreover  the  patches  of  colour  do  not  properly  repre- 
sent nature  either  as  she  appears  to  the  eye,  or  as  she 
is  understood  from  experience.  If  one  were  to  take 
a  momentary  glance  at  a  view  specially  to  receive  the 
general  colour  impression,  he  might  conceivably  re- 
tain on  his  mind  a  collection  of  colour  masses  such 
as  is  often  put  forward  as  a  landscape,  but  natural 
scenes  are  not  observed  in  this  way,  and  the  artist 
has  no  right  to  imply  that  a  view  should  be  painted 
as  it  is  observed  at  an  instantaneous  glance.  One 
cannot  be  supposed  to  keep  his  eyes  closed,  except  for 
a  moment,  when  in  front  of  nature,  and  he  cannot  be 
in  front  of  nature  for  more  than  a  moment  without 
involuntarily  recognizing  thousands  of  signs.  There 
must  necessarily  be  a  certain  clearness  of  the  at- 
mosphere for  distance  to  be  represented,  and  in  the 
minimum  clearness,  trees,  bushes,  rivulets,  and  build- 
ings of  every  kind,  are  well  defined  at  least  to  the 
middle  distance.  These  can  and  should  be  painted, 
and  there  can  be  no  object  whatever  in  omitting 
them,  except  the  ignominious  end  of  saving  trouble. 

And  it  is  necessary  that  the  signs,  whether  shadow 
or  substance,  should  be  completely  painted  as  they 
appear  to  the  eye  in  nature  when  observed  with 


200  Art  Principles 

average  care  by  one  inspecting  a  view  for  the  purpose 
of  drinking  in  all  its  beauties,  for  this  is  how  a  painted 
landscape  is  usually  examined.  There  is  no  place  in 
the  painter's  art  for  a  suggestive  sign  in  the  sense 
that  it  may  suggest  a  required  complete  sign.  A  sign 
must  be  painted  as  completely  as  possible  in  con- 
formity with  its  appearance  as  seen  from  the  pre- 
sumed point  from  which  the  artist  sketched  his  view, 
for  the  reason  that  its  value  as  a  sign  depends  upon 
the  readiness  with  which  it  is  understood.  ^^  This  is 
incontrovertible,  otherwise  the  art  of  painting  would 
be  an  art  of  hieroglyphics.  In  poetry  suggestion  is 
of  great  importance,  and  it  may  be  so  glowing  as  to 
present  to  the  imagination  a  higher  form  of  beauty 
than  can  be  painted;  but  the  signs  of  the  painter 
cannot  suggest  beauty  in  this  way,  because  the  exer- 
cise of  the  imagination  in  respect  of  them  is  limited 
by  their  form.  A  sign  painted  less  distinctly  than 
as  it  is  seen  in  nature  is  obviously  removed  from  its 
proper  relative  position,  or  else  is  untrue,  and  in 
either  case  it  must  have  a  weakening  effect  upon  the 
picture. 

The  successful  representation  of  aerial  perspective 
depends  upon  the  careful  and  close  gradation  of  tones 
in  conformity  with  the  varying  atmospheric  density. 
This  is  difficult  work  because  of  the  disabilities  aris- 
ing from  the  reduction  of  the  scene  into  miniature 
form,  which  necessitates  the  omission  of  many  tones 
and  effects  found  in  nature,  just  as  a  portrait  in 
miniature  involves  the  exclusion  of  various  elements 
of  expression  in  the  human  countenance.  But 
fortunately  in  landscape  the  variableness  of  nature 


Landscape  201 

greatly  assists  the  artist.  Only  rarely  is  the  at- 
mosphere of  equal  density  over  a  considerable  depth 
of  ground,  and  this  fact  enables  the  painter  to  sim- 
plify his  work  in  production  of  the  illusion  without 
appearing  to  depart  from  nature.  Thus  he  may 
deepen  or  contract  his  foreground  within  wide  limits. 
The  changes  in  the  appearance  of  the  atmosphere  in 
nature  have  to  be  greatly  concentrated  in  a  painting, 
and  as  this  concentration  becomes  more  difficult  as 
distance  is  reached,  it  follows  that  the  artist  has  a 
better  chance  of  success  by  making  the  foreground 
of  his  picture  begin  some  way  in  front  of  him,  rather 
than  near  the  spot  where  he  is  presumed  to  stand 
when  he  executes  his  work.  He  may  of  course 
maintain  some  very  near  ground  while  materially 
shortening  his  middle  distance,  but  this  method  must 
obviously  lower  the  beauty  of  the  painting  as  a  dis- 
tance landscape,  and  make  the  execution  vastly  more 
difficult.  Claude  adopted  this  plan  sometimes,  but  it 
is  seen  in  very  few  of  his  important  works.  In  his 
best  time  Turner  was  careful  to  set  back  his  fore- 
ground, and  to  refrain  from  restricting  his  middle 
ground. 

If  a  scene  be  taken  from  the  middle  distance  only, 
as  in  many  Barbizon  works,  the  labour  is  much  sim- 
plified because  neither  the  close  delineation  of  foliage, 
nor  any  considerable  gradation  of  atmosphere  is  re- 
quired, but  then  the  beauty  resulting  from  either  of 
these  two  exercises  is  missing.  It  is  equally  im- 
possible for  such  a  scene  to  indicate  growth  and  life, 
or  the  charm  of  a  changing  view.  Some  modern 
artists  have  a  habit  of  blotting  out  the  middle  and 


202  Art  Principles 

far  distance  by  the  introduction  of  a  thick  atmosphere 
but  this  is  an  abuse  of  the  art,  because  however  true 
the  aspect  may  be  in  the  sense  that  a  natural  view 
is  sometimes  obscured  by  the  atmosphere,  the  beauty 
of  the  scene  as  a  whole  is  hidden,  and  the  picture 
consists  largely  of  an  imitation  of  the  mist,  where  an 
illusion  of  movement  is  impossible.  The  painter 
should  imitate  the  more  beautiful,  and  not  the  less 
beautiful  aspects  of  nature.  Jupiter  has  been  some- 
times painted  as  an  incident  in  a  picture,  nearly 
wholly  concealed  by  a  cloud,  but  to  exhibit  a  separate 
work  of  the  god  so  concealed,  would  only  be  regarded 
as  an  excuse  for  avoiding  exertion,  however  well  the 
cloud  may  be  painted;  yet  this  would  not  be  more 
reprehensible  than  to  hide  the  greater  part  of  a  view 
by  a  dense  atmosphere. 

With  a  clear  atmosphere  an  illusion  of  opening 
distance  may  be  secured  with  the  far  distance  and  the 
greater  part  of  the  middle  distance  unobservable,  but 
in  such  a  case  a  successful  design  is  difficult  to  ac- 
complish owing  to  the  limited  number  of  signs  avail- 
able. Many  signs,  as  trees  and  houses,  either  darken 
or  hide  the  view,  while  sunlight  effects  on  unob- 
structed ground,  sufficiently  definite  to  be  used  as 
signs,  could  not  be  very  numerous  without  appear- 
ing abnormal.  The  only  really  first-class  method  of 
producing  a  satisfactory  near-ground  illusion  was 
invented  by  Hobbema  in  the  later  years  of  his  life. 
This  is  to  use  skilfully  placed  trees  and  other  signs 
through  which  paths  wind,  or  appear  to  wind,  and 
to  throw  in  a  strong  sunlight  from  the  back.^     The 

a  See  Plate  i8. 


Landscape  203 

light  enables  far  more  signs  to  be  used  in  depth 
than  would  otherwise  be  possible,  and  so  the  eye  has 
a  comparatively  long  track  to  follow.  That  the  re- 
markable beauty  of  the  pictures  of  Hobbema  com- 
posed in  this  way  is  almost  entirely  due  to  the  illusion 
thus  created,  is  readily  seen  when  they  are  com- 
pared with  some  of  his  other  works,  very  similar  in 
all  respects  except  that  the  light  is  thrown  in  from 
the  front  or  the  side.  Before  placing  his  light  at  the 
back,  the  artist  tried  the  side  plan  in  many  pictures, 
and  while  this  was  a  decided  improvement  upon  his 
earlier  efforts  to  secure  depth  of  near-ground  signs, 
it  was  naturally  inferior  to  the  latest  scheme.  Jacob 
Ruysdael  adopted  the  plan  of  Hobbema  in  two  or 
three  works  with  great  effect.^ 

When  the  middle  distance  is  hidden  by  a  rising 
foreground,  an  illusion  may  be  created  by  the  far 
distance  alone  if  this  be  of  considerable  depth.  Since 
the  fifteenth  century  it  has  been  a  frequent  practice 
to  conceal  the  middle  distance,  though  mostly  in 
pictures  of  figure  subjects.  ^^  The  Dutch  artists  of 
the  seventeenth  century  who  painted  open-air  scenes 
of  human  and  animal  life,  as  Paul  Potter,  Wouver- 
man,  and  Albert  Cuyp,  avoided  the  middle  distance 
whenever  possible,  but  often  managed  to  secure  a 
fair  illusion.  In  pure  landscape  the  system  is  less 
often  practised,  and  never  by  great  artists. 

The  only  means  available  to  the  painter  of  land 
views  for  creating  an  illusion  of  motion,  apart  from 
that  of  opening  distance,  is  by  the  representation  of 
flowing  water  so  that  a  series  of  successive  events  in 

a  For  example,  The  Marsh,  Hermitage. 


204  Art  Principles 

the  flow,  each  connected  with,  but  varying  in  char- 
acter from,  the  preceding  one,  can  be  exhibited. 
Thus,  a  volume  of  water  from  a  fall  proceeds  rapidly- 
over  a  flat  surface  to  a  ledge,  and  thence  perhaps  to 
another  ledge  of  a  different  depth,  from  which  it 
passes  over  or  round  irregular  rocks  and  boulders, 
and  thence  over  smaller  stones  or  into  a  stream, 
creating  in  its  passage  every  kind  of  eddy  and 
current.^  Here  is  a  series  of  progressive  natural 
actions  in  which  the  progression  is  regular  and 
continuous,  while  the  separate  actions  cover  such 
time  and  space  that  they  may  be  readily  separated 
by  the  eye.  If,  therefore,  the  whole  series  be  prop- 
erly represented,  an  illusion  of  motion  will  result/ ^ 
Obviously  the  canvas  must  be  of  considerable  size, 
and  the  breaks  in  the  flow  of  water  as  varied  in 
character  and  as  numerous  as  possible.  Everdingen 
and  Jacob  Ruysdael  seem  to  have  been  the  first 
artists  to  recognize  the  significance  of  this  progression, 
but  Ruysdael  far  surpassed  his  master  in  the  exhibi- 
tion of  it.  He  examined  the  problem  in  all  its  vari- 
ations, solved  it  in  a  hundred  ways,  and  at  his  death 
left  little  for  succeeding  painters  to  learn  regarding 
it.  Very  rarely,  one  meets  with  a  landscape  where 
the  double  illusion  of  motion  of  water  and  opening 
distance  is  provided,  and  needless  to  say  the  effect 
is  superb.'' 

Sea  views  occupy  a  position  by  themselves  inas- 
much as  there  is  a  fixed  horizontal  distance  for  the 

a  See  Plate  19. 

b  For  examples  see  S.  Rough's  Borrowdale,  and  Thoma's  View  of 
Laufenburg. 


Landscape  205 

artist.  He  cannot  shorten  this  depth  without  mak- 
ing his  work  look  abnormal,  and  an  effort  to  increase 
it  by  presuming  that  the  picture  is  painted  from  a 
considerable  height  above  the  sea  level,  is  seldom 
successful  because  the  observer  of  the  work  finds  a 
difficulty  in  fitting  in  the  novelty  with  his  experience. 
Except  when  depicting  stormy  weather,  or  showing  a 
thick  atmosphere,  the  painter  of  a  sea  view  has  no 
trouble  in  obtaining  absolute  accuracy  in  his  linear 
perspective,  but  this  is  not  sufficient,  for  if  a  variety 
of  trees,  herbage,  brooks,  and  so  on,  requires  an  illu- 
sion of  movement,  then  certainly  does  a  sea  view 
which  has  monotony  for  its  keynote.  The  motion  of 
the  waves  in  fine  weather  cannot  be  suggested  on  can- 
vas because  it  is  continuous  and  equal.  One  wave 
displaces  another  and  so  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  there 
is  only  a  succession  of  similar  waves.  Thus  the 
motion  appears  unbroken,  and  from  the  canvas  point 
of  view  the  waves  must  be  motionless  as  the  sand 
hillocks  of  a  desert.  Of  course  in  the  actual  view, 
the  expanse,  the  "immeasurable  stretch  of  ocean,  "  is 
impressive  and  to  some  extent  weird,  but  nothing  of 
this  feeling  is  induced  by  a  painted  miniature.  With 
a  bright  sky  and  clear  atmosphere  the  painter  of  a 
sea  view  cannot  well  obtain  an  illusion  of  opening 
distance  by  means  of  a  multiplication  of  signs  as  on 
land,  for  the  introduction  of  many  vessels  would  give 
the  work  a  formal  appearance,  but  the  problem  can 
be  satisfactorily  solved  by  putting  the  sun  in  the  sky 
towards  the  setting,  and  using  cloud  shadows  as 
signs.  Aivasovsky,  one  of  the  greatest  marine 
painters  of  modern  times,  was  very  successful  with 


206  Art  Principles 

this  class  of  work.  His  long  shadows  thrown  at 
right  angles  to  the  line  of  sight,  carry  back  the  dis- 
tance till  the  horizon  seems  to  be  further  off  than 
experience  warrants,  the  illusion  being  perfect.  An 
illusion  of  opening  distance  may,  however,  be  easily 
obtained  in  a  sea  view  when  there  is  a  haze  covering, 
but  not  hiding,  the  horizon,  by  introducing  as  signs, 
two  or  three  vessels,  the  first  in  the  middle  distance. 

Another  method  of  giving  a  suggestion  of  motion, 
which  may  be  used  by  the  sea  painter,  is  in  truthfully 
representing  the  appearance  of  the  water  roimd 
a  vessel  passing  through  it.  What  is  probably  the 
finest  example  of  this  work  in  existence  is  Jacob 
Ruysdael's  The  Rising  Storm.*  The  sea  is  shown 
close  to  a  port,  and  half  a  dozen  smacks  and  small 
boats  are  being  tossed  about  by  choppy,  breaking 
waves.  In  the  centre  of  the  picture  is  a  large  smack 
over  the  weather  bow  of  which  a  huge  foaming  wave 
has  broken,  and  part  is  spending  its  force  on  the  lee 
bow,  from  which  the  water  gradually  becomes  quieter 
till  at  the  stem  of  the  boat  little  more  than  a  black 
concavity  is  seen.  The  progression  of  wave  move- 
ment is  completely  represented,  and  the  effect  is  very 
impressive. 

The  coast  painter  can  produce  an  excellent  illusion 
of  motion  from  waves  breaking  on  a  beach,  for  in 
nature  this  action  is  made  up  of  a  series  of  different 
consecutive  acts  each  of  which  is  easily  distinguish- 
able to  the  eye.  The  wave  rises,  bends  over  its  top 
which  becomes  crested,  and  splashes  forward  on  the 
beach,  to  be  converted  into  foam  which  races  on- 

a  Berlin  Gallery.     See  Plate  20. 


Landscape  207 

wards,  breaking  up  as  it  goes  till  it  reaches  the  water- 
mark, then  rapidly  falling  back  to  be  met  by  another 
wave.  Here  is  a  series  of  consecutive  incidents 
which  can  all  be  painted  so  as  to  deceive  for  a  mo- 
ment with  the  idea  of  motion.  The  attempt  to 
represent  the  action  of  waves  breaking  against  steep 
rocks  is  invariably  a  failure,  because  of  the  great 
reduction  of  the  apparent  number  of  incidents  form- 
ing the  consecutive  series.  In  nature  the  eye  is  not 
quick  enough  to  follow  the  separate  events,  and  so 
they  cannot  be  distinguished  in  a  painting.  Thom- 
son's fine  picture  of  Fast  Castle  is  distinctly  marred 
by  a  wide  irregular  column  of  water  shown  splashing 
up  against  a  rock.  There  is  no  possibility  here  of 
representing  a  series  of  actions,  and  so  an  instant 
suffices  to  fix  the  water  on  the  rock.  In  another 
work  by  the  same  artist  there  are  waves  breaking 
against  precipitous  rocks,  but  in  this  case  the  water 
first  passes  over  an  expanse  of  low  lying  rocks,  and  a 
sequence  of  actions  is  shown  right  up  to  the  cliff, 
an  excellent  illusion  of  movement  being  brought 
about,  a 

Apart  from  those  exhibiting  an  illusion  of  motion  of 
some  kind,  the  only  landscapes  which  have  a  perma- 
nent value,  are  near-ground  scenes  in  which  conditions 
of  atmosphere  of  common  experience,  as  rain  or  storm 
are  faithfully  rendered.  In  these  works  the  signs 
must  be  numerous  and  varied  in  character,  for  it  is 
only  in  the  multiplication  of  small  changes  of  form 
and  tone  that  the  natural  effects  of  a  particular 

a  Dunluce  Castle,  which  with  Fast  Castle,  is  in  the  Kingsborough 
Collection,  Scotland. 


2o8  Art  Principles 

weather  condition  can  be  imitated.  Jacob  Ruysdael 
and  Constable  were  the  greatest  masters  of  this  form 
of  landscape,  Crome  and  Boecklin  closely  approach- 
ing them,  but  it  is  uncommon  for  a  serious  worker  in 
landscape  to  attempt  a  picture  where  distance  is  not 
recorded.  The  best  paintings  of  Constable  present 
an  illusion  of  opening  distance,  and  when  Jacob  Ruys- 
dael painted  near-ground  only,  it  was  nearly  always 
a  hilly  slope  with  water  breaking  over  low  rocks. 

Moonlight  and  twilight  scenes  are  not  good  sub- 
jects for  the  painter  of  landscape,  because,  shown  as 
they  must  be  in  daylight,  or  with  artificial  light, 
they  become  distinctly  uninteresting  after  the  first 
impression  of  tonal  harmony  has  passed  away,  owing 
to  the  unconscious  revolt  of  the  mind  against  some- 
thing with  an  unreal  appearance.  ^^  This  is  the  chief 
reason  why  no  scene  has  lived  which  depended  for  its 
beauty  entirely  upon  moonlight  effects.  It  is  about 
two  hundred  and  fifty  years  since  Van  der  Neer 
died,  and  he  still  remains  practically  the  only 
moonlight  painter  known  to  us  whose  works  seem  of 
permanent  interest.  But  he  did  not  rely  altogether 
upon  moonlight  effects  for  his  beauty,  for  the  repre- 
sentation of  distance  is  the  principal  feature  in  all  his 
works.  Further  he  commonly  makes  us  acquainted 
with  the  human  life  and  habitations  of  his  time,  and 
in  this  way  enhances  our  appreciation  of  his  pictures. 
Before  Van  der  Neer,  moonlight  scenes  were  very 
rarely  executed,  and  only  two  or  three  of  these  have 
remained  which  are  worthy  of  serious  consideration. 
The  best  of  them  is  a  view  by  Rubens,  where  the  light 
is  comparatively  strong,  and  practically  the  whole 


Landscape  209 

of  the  beauty  rests  in  the  opening  distance,  which  can 
hardly  be  surpassed  in  a  work  of  this  kind.^ 

It  is  not  necessary  to  deal  with  varieties  of  pure 
landscape  other  than  those  mentioned.  They  are 
painted  in  their  myriads,  and  form  pleasant  tonal 
harmonies,  or  have  local  interest,  but  they  do  not 
live.  As  the  foliage  in  springtime  they  are  fresh  and 
welcome  to  the  eye  when  they  first  appear,  but  all  too 
soon  they  fade  and  disappear  from  memory  like  the 
leaves  of  the  autumn. 

In  landscape  as  in  all  other  branches  of  painting, 
whatever  is  ephemeral  in  nature,  or  of  uncommon  ex- 
perience, should  be  avoided.  Rare  sun  effects  and 
exceptional  phases  of  atmosphere  should  not  find 
their  way  into  pictures,  while  strokes  of  lightning 
and  rainbows  should  only  be  present  when  they  are 
necessitated  by  the  design,  and  then  must  be  sub- 
ordinated as  far  as  possible.  Of  all  these  things  the 
most  strongly  to  be  deprecated  are  strange  sunlight 
effects,  for  they  have  the  double  drawback  for  the 
painter,  of  rarity  and  evanescence  in  nature.  A 
stroke  of  lightning  is  not  out  of  place  where  the  con- 
ditions may  be  presumed  to  be  more  or  less  perma- 
nent, as  in  the  celebrated  picture  of  Apelles,  where 
Alexander  was  represented  in  the  character  of  Jupiter 
casting  a  thunderbolt,  and  forks  of  lightning  proceed 
from  his  hand;  or  where  the  occurrence  is  essential 
in  the  composition,  as  in  Gilbert's  Slaying  of  Job's 
Sheep. ^     So  in  Danby's  The  Sixth  Seal  Opened,  the 

a  Landscape  by  Moonlight,  Mond  Collection,  London, 
b  The  fire  of  God  is  fallen  from  Heaven,  and  hath  burned  up  the 
sheep  and  the  servants.     Job  i,  i6. 


210  Art  Principles 

lightning  is  quite  appropriate,  for  all  nature  is  dis- 
turbed. In  Martin's  Plague  of  Hail,  and  The  De- 
struction of  Pharaoh,  the  first  a  night  scene,  and  the 
second  a  view  darkened  by  dense  black  clouds,  light- 
ning is  well  used  for  lighting  purposes;  and  in  Cot's 
The  Storm, ^  where  the  background  is  dark  and  no  sky 
is  visible,  lightning  is  the  only  means  possessed  by 
the  artist  of  explaining  that  the  fear  expressed  by  the 
lovers  in  the  foreground,  arises  from  the  approach- 
ing storm.  Great  masters  like  Giorgione,^  Rubens,*^ 
Poussin,*^  used  a  stroke  of  lightning  on  rare  occasions, 
but  took  every  care  that  it  should  not  be  conspicuous, 
or  interfere  in  any  way  with  the  first  view  of  the 
picture.  The  lightning  is  invariably  placed  in  the 
far  background,  and  no  light  is  apparently  reflected 
from  it. 

A  rainbow  in  nature  has  a  life  of  appreciable  dura- 
tion, and  so  may  be  appropriately  used  in  landscape, 
but  obviously  it  should  be  regarded  as  a  minor 
accessory  except  where  it  forms  a  necessary  feature 
in  the  design.^  The  great  drawback  in  a  prominent 
rainbow  is  that  it  forces  itself  upon  the  attention 
of  the  observer  to  the  detriment  of  the  picture  as  a 
whole,  and  if  it  be  very  conspicuous  and  crosses  the 
middle  of  the  painted  view,  as  in  Turner's  Arundel 
Castle,  the  picture  appears  divided  in  two  parts,  and 
the  possibility  of  an  illusion  of  opening  distance  is 

a  Metropolitan  Museum,  N.  Y. 

b  Adrastus  and  Hypsipyle,  Venice. 

c  Landscape  with  Baucis  and  Philemon,  Munich. 

^  Jonah  cast  into  the  sea. 

e  As  in  Martin's  I  have  Set  My  Bow  in  the  Clouds. 


Landscape  211 

destroyed.^  Almost  as  bad  is  the  effect  when  a  rain- 
bow cuts  off  a  comer  of  a  picture,  for  this  suggests  at 
first  sight  an  accidental  interference  with  the  work.*' 
Of  all  artists  Rubens  seemed  to  know  best  how  to  use 
a  rainbow.  He  adopts  three  methods.  The  first 
and  best  is  to  put  the  bow  entirely  in  the  sky " ;  the 
second  to  throw  it  right  into  the  background  where 
part  of  it  is  dissolved  in  the  view  ^ ;  and  the  third  to 
indicate  the  bow  in  one  part  of  the  picture,  and  over- 
shadow it  with  a  strong  sunlight  thrown  in  from 
another  part.^  Any  of  these  forms  seems  to  answer 
well,  but  they  practically  exhaust  the  possibilities 
in  general  design.  A  section  of  a  rainbow  may  be 
shown  with  one  end  of  it  on  the  ground,  because  this 
is  observable  in  nature  ^ ;  but  to  cut  off  the  top  of  the 
arch  as  if  there  were  no  room  for  it  on  the  canvas 
is  obviously  bad,  for  the  two  segments  left  appear 
quite  unnatural.^ 

The  small  rainbows  sometimes  seen  at  waterfalls 
are  occasionally  introduced  into  paintings,  but  rarely 
with  success  because  they  tend  to  interfere  with  the 
general  view  of  the  scene.  Such  views  are  necessarily 
near  ground,  and  so  a  bow  must  seriously  injure  the 
picture  unless  it  be  placed  at  the  side,  as  in  Innes's 
fine  work  of  Niagara  Falls  (the  example  of  1884). 


a  In  the  Rivers  of  England  series. 

b  The  Rainbow  of  Millet,  and  a  similar  work  of  Thoma. 

c  Harvest  Landscape,  Munich  Gallery. 

d  Harvest  Landscape,  Wallace  Collection,  London. 

e  Landscape  with  a  Rainbow,  Hermitage,  Petrograd. 

f  Rubens's  Shipwreck  of  ^neas,  Berlin  Gallery. 

g  A.  P.  Van  de  Venne's  Soul  Fishery,  Amsterdam. 


212  Art  Principles 

The  use  of  a  rainbow  as  a  track  in  classical  pic- 
tures is  sometimes  effective,  though  the  landscape 
is  largely  sacrificed  owing  to  the  compulsory  great 
width  and  bright  appearance  of  the  bow,  which  must 
indeed  practically  absorb  the  attention  of  the  ob- 
server. The  best  known  picture  of  this  kind  is 
Schwind's  Rainbow,  which  shows  the  beautiful  form 
of  Iris  wrapped  in  the  sheen  of  the  bow,  and  descend- 
ing with  great  speed,  the  idea  being  apparently  taken 
from  Virgil.^  To  use  the  top  of  the  rainbow  for  a 
walking  track  is  bad,  as  the  mind  instinctively  repels 
the  invention  as  opposed  to  reason.^ 

But  if  fleeting  natural  phenomena  become  dis- 
turbing to  the  observer  of  a  picture,  how  much  more 
objectionable  are  the  quickly  disappearing  effects  of 
artificial  devices,  as  the  lights  from  explosions.  In  a 
battle  scene  covering  a  wide  area  of  ground,  a  small 
cloud  of  smoke  here  and  there  is  not  out  of  place, 
because  under  natural  conditions  such  a  cloud  lasts 
for  an  appreciable  time;  but  no  good  artist  will  in- 
dicate in  his  work  a  flash  from  a  gun,  for  this  would 
immediately  become  stagy  and  unreal  to  the  ob- 
server. Nor  can  fireworks  of  the  ordinary  kind  be 
properly  represented  in  a  picture.  The  beauty  of 
these  fireworks  lies  in  the  appearance  out  of  nothing, 
as  it  were,  of  brilliant  showers  of  coloured  lights,  and 
their  rapid  disappearance,  to  be  replaced  by  others 
of  different  form  and  character,  the  movement  and 
changes  constituting  important  elements  in  their 
appreciation.     But   the  painter   can   only   indicate 

a  .^neid  V.,  where  Juno  sends  Iris  to  the  Trojan  fleet, 
b  Thoma's  Progress  of  the  gods  to  Walhalla. 


Landscape  213 

them  by  fixed  points  of  light  which  necessarily 
appear  abnormal.  Stationary  points  of  light  can 
have  no  resemblance  whatever  to  fireworks,  and  if 
the  title  of  the  picture  forces  the  imagination  to  see 
in  them  expiring  sparks  from  a  rocket,  the  impression 
can  only  last  a  moment,  and  will  be  succeeded  by  a 
revolt  in  the  mind  against  so  glaring  an  impossi- 
bility as  a  number  of  permanent  sparks.  The  only 
painted  firework  display  that  does  not  appear  ab- 
normal is  a  fountain  of  fire  and  sparks  which  may  be 
presumed  to  last  for  some  time,  and  therefore  would 
not  quickly  tire  the  mind.* 

a  See  examples  by  La  Touche,  notably  La  F^te  de  Nuit,  Salon,  1914. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

STILL-LIFE 

Its  comparative  difficulty — Its  varieties — Its  limitations. 

Right  through  the  degrees  of  the  art  of  the  painter 
till  we  reach  still-life,  the  difficulty  in  producing  the 
art  is  in  proportion  to  the  general  beauty  therein, 
but  in  the  case  of  still-life  the  object  is  much  less 
readily  gained  than  in  simple  landscape  which  is  on 
a  higher  level  in  painting.  The  causes  of  this  appar- 
ent anomaly  appear  to  be  as  follows: — Firstly  in 
miniature  painting  one  does  not  expect  such  close 
resemblance  to  nature  as  in  still-life  which  usually 
represents  things  in  their  natural  size:  secondly,  in 
still-life  the  relative  position  of  the  parts  can  never  be 
such  as  to  appear  novel,  whereas  in  landscape  their 
position  is  always  more  or  less  unexpected:  thirdly, 
in  still-life  the  colours  are  practically  fixed,  for  the 
painter  cannot  depart  from  the  limited  variety  of 
tints  commonly  connected  with  the  objects  indicated, 
while  in  landscape  the  colouring  may  vary  almost 
indefinitely  from  sun  effects  without  appearing  to 
depart  from  nature. 

The  beauty  in  still-life  paintings  may  arise  from 
several   causes,    namely,    the   pleasure   experienced 

214 


Still-Life  215 

from  the  excellence  of  the  imitation ;  the  hannony  of 
tones ;  the  beauty  of  the  things  imitated ;  the  associa- 
tion of  ideas;  and  the  pleasure  derived  from  the  ac- 
quisition of  knowledge.  Aristotle  seemed  to  think 
this  last  one  of  the  principal  reasons  for  our  apprecia- 
tion of  the  painter's  work,  though  he  agreed  that  the 
better  the  imitation,  the  greater  the  pleasure  to  the 
observer.  The  argument  appears  to  apply  particu- 
larly to  the  lower  forms  of  life  because  in  nature  they 
are  not  often  closely  examined.  A  cauliflower  for 
instance  may  be  seen  a  thousand  times  by  one  who 
would  not  carefully  note  its  structure,  but  if  he  see 
an  imitation  of  it  painted  by  a  good  artist,  his  as- 
tonishment at  the  excellence  of  the  imitation  might 
cause  him  to  observe  the  representation  closely,  and 
learn  much  about  the  vegetable  which  he  did  not 
know  before.  In  this  way  the  information  gained 
would  add  to  his  pleasure. 

As  in  landscape,  from  the  absence  of  abstract 
qualities  from  the  things  represented,  and  since  the 
position  of  the  signs  may  be  indefinitely  varied  with- 
out a  sense  of  incongruity  resulting,  there  can  be 
no  ideal  in  still-life,  and  so  the  painter  cannot  pass 
beyond  experience  without  achieving  the  abnormal. 

The  painter  of  still-life  has  the  choice  of  four  kinds 
of  imitation,  namely,  the  representation  of  products 
of  nature  which  are  in  themselves  beautiful,  as  roses 
and  fine  plumaged  birds ;  the  imitation  of  products  of 
human  industry  which  are  in  themselves  beautiful, 
as  sculptured  plate  or  fine  porcelain ;  the  representa- 
tion of  natural  and  manual  products  which  in  them- 
selves are   neither   beautiful  nor  displeasing,   but 


2i6  Art  Principles 

interest  from  association  of  ideas,  as  certain  fruits, 
books,  and  musical  instruments;  and  the  imitation 
of  things  which  in  themselves  are  not  pleasing  to  the 
sight,  as  dead  game,  kitchen  utensils,  and  so  on. 
Obviously  the  artist  may  assort  any  two  or  more  of 
these  varieties  in  the  same  picture.  He  may  also 
associate  them  with  life,  but  here  he  is  met  with  a 
grave  difficulty  which  goes  to  the  very  root  of  art. 
If  two  forms,  not  being  merely  accessories,  are 
associated  together  in  a  design,  the  lower  form 
must  necessarily  be  subordinated,  otherwise  the 
mind  of  the  observer  will  be  disturbed  by  the  ap- 
parent double  objective.  A  live  dog  or  other  animal 
in  a  still-life  composition  will  immediately  attract 
the  eye  of  the  observer,  drawing  off  his  attention  from 
the  inanimate  objects  represented,  which  will  conse- 
quently thereafter  lose  much  of  their  interest.  The 
presence  of  a  man  is  still  worse.  Not  only  is  it 
natural  and  inevitable  that  a  human  being  should 
take  precedence  of  whatever  is  inanimate  in  a  work 
of  art,  but  in  the  case  of  still-life,  where  he  is  painted 
of  natural  size,  he  must  necessarily  overshadow 
everything  else  in  the  picture.  Further,  his  own 
representation  is  much  injured  because  the  surround- 
ings exercise  a  disconcerting  influence.  Even  with 
the  human  figures  of  such  a  work  executed  by  a 
painter  of  the  first  rank,  they  are  quite  uninteresting.* 
Beautiful  products  of  nature  such  as  brilliant 
flowers  and  butterflies,  cannot  be  imitated  so  well 
that  the  representations  appear  as  beautiful  as  the 

a  See  still-life  pictures  at  the  Hague  and  Vienna  Museums  by  Van 
Dyck  and  Snyders. 


Still-Life  217 

things  themselves,  and  so  are  unsuited  as  entire 
subjects  for  paintings,  for  we  are  usually  well  ac- 
quainted with  these  things,  and  consciously  or  un- 
consciously recognize  the  inferiority  of  the  imitation. 
The  greatest  flower  painters  have  therefore  wisely 
refrained  from  introducing  into  their  works  more  than 
a  few  fine  roses  or  similar  blooms.  The  presence  of 
many  less  beautiful  flowers  in  which  the  imitation  is, 
or  appears  to  be,  more  pleasing  than  the  natural 
forms,  neutralizes  or  overcomes  the  effect  of  the 
inferior  imitation  of  the  more  beautiful.  In  fact 
the  extent  to  which  natural  products  which  are 
necessarily  more  beautiful  than  the  imitations,  may 
be  used  in  painting,  except  as  incidentals,  is  very 
limited.  They  cannot  appropriately  be  used  at  all 
on  walls  and  curtains  where  they  continually  cross 
the  vision,  for  they  would  there  quickly  tire  owing 
to  the  involuntary  dissatisfaction  with  the  representa- 
tion. The  Japanese,  whose  whole  art  of  painting 
was  for  centuries  concentrated  upon  light  internal 
decoration,  rightly  discard  from  this  form  of  art 
all  natural  products  which  are  necessarily  superior  to 
the  imitations,  and  confine  their  attention  to  those 
signs  which,  while  being  actually  more  beautiful, 
when  closely  seen,  than  the  imitations,  do  not  appear 
to  be  so  in  nature  where  they  are  usually  observed 
at  some  distance  from  the  eye.  Thus,  waterfowl  of 
various  kinds,  small  birds  of  the  hedges,  storks, 
herons,  branches  of  fruit  blossoms,  light  trees  and 
vegetation,  are  infinitely  preferable  to  the  more 
beautiful  products  for  purely  decorative  purposes. 
A  common  pigeon  with  an  added  bright  feather,  is 


2i8  Art  Principles 

better  on  a  wall  or  screen  than  the  most  brilliant 
pheasant,  for  in  the  one  case  the  representation 
appears  above  ordinary  experience,  and  in  the  other 
case,  below  it. 

The  decorative  artist  then  is  at  liberty  to  enhance 
the  beauty  of  his  signs,  but  not  to  take  for  them 
things  which  are  commonly  observed  in  nature,  and 
whose  beauty  he  cannot  equal.  But  there  should  be 
no  wide  divergence  between  the  natural  beauty  and 
the  art,  and  nothing  which  in  itself  is  unpleasing  is 
suitable  for  decoration.  It  may  be  introduced  in  a 
hanging  picture,  because  here  a  sense  of  beauty  may 
be  derived  from  the  excellence  of  the  imitation,  as  in 
the  case  of  a  dead  hare  or  a  basket  of  vegetables ;  but 
in  pure  decoration  the  effect  is  general  and  not  par- 
ticular, and  so  the  imitation  yields  no  beauty  apart 
from  that  of  the  thing  imitated. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SECONDARY   ART 

Paintings  of  record — Scenes  from  the  novel  and  written  drama — 
From  the  acted  drama — Humorous  subjects — Allegorical  works. 

When  the  invention  of  the  painter  is  circumscribed 
by  the  requirements  of  another  art,  whether  a  fine 
art  or  not,  then  his  art  ceases  to  be  a  pure  art  and 
becomes  an  art  of  record,  subordinate  to  the  art  by 
which  his  work  is  circumscribed.  This  may  be 
termed  the  Secondary  Art  of  painting.  The  art 
may  be  of  importance  outside  the  purposes  of  the 
fine  arts,  and  in  certain 'cases  may  be  productive  of 
good  pictures,  but  only  by  way  of  accident :  hence  a 
work  of  secondary  art  never  engages  the  attention  of 
a  great  artist  unless  he  be  specially  called  upon  to 
execute  it.  Hard  and  fast  lines  dividing  the  pure 
from  the  secondary  art  cannot  be  laid  down,  as  one 
often  verges  on  the  other,  but  there  is  a  general  dis- 
tinction between  them  which  is  easily  comprehen- 
sible in  the  separate  branches  of  painting. 

Secondary  art  is  not  produced  from  incidents  or 
characters  taken  from  sacred  or  mythological  history, 
because  here  the  general  invention  of  the  painter  is 
never  circumscribed,  for  he  is  able  to  produce  form 

219 


220  Art  Principles 

and  expression  above  experience.  In  profane  his- 
tory the  art  is  secondary  when  the  painter  confines  his 
invention  to  recorded  details.  Thus  in  a  picture  of 
the  Coronation  of  Charlemagne,  the  composition  is 
entirely  invented  by  the  artist,  and  so  the  work 
becomes  one  of  pure  art;  but  the  representation  of 
the  Coronation  of  Queen  Victoria,  where  the  artist 
reproduces  the  scene  as  it  actually  occurred,  is 
secondary  art,  for  he  is  precluded  from  the  exercise 
of  his  imagination  in  the  design,  the  end  of  art  being 
subordinated  to  that  of  record  or  history.  Such  a 
picture  is  necessarily  stiff  and  formal.  Where  the 
scene  represents  a  number  of  actions,  as  in  a  battle 
design,  the  artist  is  unable  to  record  the  actual  oc- 
currence, though  he  may  represent  particular  actions ; 
consequently  he  has  large  scope  for  his  imagination, 
and  may  limit  his  representation  to  those  actions 
which  together  make  a  fine  example  of  pure  art. 
But  a  battle  scene  where  a  particular  event,  as  a 
meeting  of  generals,  has  to  be  painted,  immediately 
becomes  secondary  art,  for  then  the  surrounding 
battle  events  would  be  accessory  in  their  nature.  It 
is  possible  for  simple  historical  works  painted  to  order 
centuries  ago  to  appear  now  as  of  high  art  value, 
because  we  commonly  connect  a  strict  formaUty 
with  old  pictures  of  the  kind,  whether  executed  from 
records  or  invention.  Thus  Holbein's  Henry  VIII. 
presenting  a  Charter  to  the  Barber- Surgeons  no  doubt 
closely  depicts  the  actual  event,  yet  the  stiffness  of 
the  design  does  not  seem  out  of  place.*  Nevertheless 
it  is  a  refreshing  change  from  this  picture  to  Richard 

a  Barbers'  Hall,  London. 


PLATE     19 


Landscape,  by  Jacob  Ruysdael 
{National  Gallery,  London) 


(See  page  204) 


Secondary  Art  221 

III.  offered  the  Crown  by  London  Merchants,  which 
is  a  magnificent  modem  work  of  pure  invention.* 

A  scene  from  a  story  of  actual  life  is  necessarily 
secondary  art,  because  here  the  painter  imitates  what 
is  already  an  imitation,  and  cannot  ascend  above 
experience.  He  is  confined"  to  the  invention  of  the 
novelist,  and  is  therefore  subordinate  to  him. 

The  written  drama  is  available  for  the  painter  as  a 
source  for  designs  only  in  cases  of  high  tragedy,  or 
mixed  plays  containing  strong  dramatic  events  of 
tragic  import.  Seeing  that  the  drama  is  itself  an 
imitative  art,  only  such  actions  or  characters  can  be 
used  by  the  painter  which  are  above  life  experience, 
and  it  is  only  in  tragedy  that  the  dramatist  can  exalt 
human  attributes,  and  ennoble  the  passions  above 
this  experience.  Tragedy  deals  directly  with  the 
two  great  contrasting  human  mysteries — life  and 
death.  From  one  to  the  other  is  the  most  awful 
and  sublime  action  within  human  knowledge,  and 
consequently  the  motives  and  sentiments  relating  to 
it  may  be  carried  to  the  loftiest  reach  of  the  under- 
standing. An  exaggeration  of  ordinary  life,  where 
the  combination  of  perfected  parts  in  form  and  ex- 
pression is  not  possible,  means  only  the  abnormal; 
while  comedy,  which  imitates  conditions  inferior  to 
ordinary _  life,  cannot  be  exaggerated  except  into  dis- 
tortion. High  tragedy  therefore  is  the  only  section 
of  the  written  drama  that  concerns  the  painter.  If 
he  draw  from  any  other  work  of  the  dramatist  he 
only  produces  secondary  art,  as  when  he  draws  from 

*  Royal  Exchange,  London. 


222  Art  Principles 

the  novelist.     The  picture  may  be  interesting,  but 
both  interest  and  beauty  will  be  fleeting. 

While  the  painter  may  use  the  written  drama  in 
certain  cases,  he  can  by  no  means  be  concerned  with 
the  acted  drama.     It  is  useless  to  attempt  to  pro- 
duce a  good  picture  by  imitating  an  imitation  accom- 
plished by  a  combined  art,  as  the  opera  or  drama. 
A  painted  scene  from  a  play  as  it  is  acted,  is  merely 
the  execution  of  another  man's  design  which  in  itself 
is  entirely  circumscribed  by  conditions   of  action 
and  speech  wholly  foreign  to  the  art  of  the  painter. 
A  picture  of  a  particular  moment  of  action  in  a 
written  play,  as  it  is  thrown  upon  the  brain  in  the 
course  of  reading,  is  interesting,  firstly  because  our 
imagination  has  wide  limits  of  invention,  and  we 
naturally    and    instinctively    adopt    a    harmonious 
rendering  of  the  scene  so  far  as  the  writing  will 
allow;  and  secondly  for  the  reason  that  we  pass 
rapidly  from  impression  to  impression,  and  so  the 
whole  significance  of  each  picture,  separately  and 
relatively,  is  conveyed  to  us.     But  a  painting  of  an 
acted  scene  is  meaningless,  for  it  can  represent  only 
one  in  a  series  of  a  thousand  moments  of  action  which 
are  all  connected,  and  of  which  the  comprehension 
of  any  one  is  dependent  upon   our  knowledge  of 
the  whole.  .  The  painter  has  no  scope.     He  simply 
copies  a  number  of  figures  in  a  fixed  setting,  and  the 
result  is  necessarily  inferior  art  to  a  copy  of  the  poor- 
est original  picture,  since  in  this  case  the  artist  at 
least  copies  the  direct  product  of  the  imagination, 
while  in  the  other  he  has  only  before  him  a  series  of 
dummies  who  are  imitating  the  product.     The  sense 


Secondary  Art  223 

of  unreality  arising  from  such  a  picture  must  in- 
stantly overpower  any  harmony  of  colour  or  form 
that  may  be  present. 

Where  the  portrait  of  an  actor  is  painted  in  a  stage 
r61e,  the  same  principle  is  involved,  though  the  result 
is  not  so  disastrous.  We  still  have  the  unreal,  but 
it  is  painted  and  put  forward  as  a  living  person. 
The  artist  moreover  has  a  little  imaginative  scope. 
He  can  choose  a  moment  of  action  best  suited  to  his 
art,  and  may  even  vary  the  character  of  the  action, 
which  is  not  possible  where  an  acted  scene  is  depicted. 
But  notwithstanding  all  the  relative  advantages,  a 
Raphael  could  not  make  a  fine  picture  out  of  a  man 
in  character.  He  may  largely  overcome  the  dis- 
abilities arising  from  the  limitation  to  his  invention ; 
he  may  introduce  great  effects  of  light  and  shade; 
may  ennoble  expression  and  give  grandeur  to  form; 
but  he  will  never  hide  the  sham — never  conceal  the 
fact  that  he  is  representing  an  imitation  of  life.  The 
actor  on  the  stage  is  one  of  a  number  of  signs  used 
by  the  dramatist.  His  identity  apart  from  the  sign 
is  lost,  or  presumed  to  be  lost  for  the  time  being,  and 
so  he  is  not  a  sham ;  but  outside  of  the  stage  his  use 
or  meaning  as  a  sign  does  not  exist.  Hence  the 
representation  of  this  sign  as  a  subject  of  a  painting 
is  only  a  degree  less  incongruous  than  would  be  the 
introduction  of  a  painted  figure  as  one  of  the  char- 
acters of  a  stage  scene. 

It  is  an  indication  of  the  sure  public  instinct  in 
matters  of  art  principles,  that  general  opinion  has 
always  tacitly  condemned  paintings  of  stage  scenes 
and  characters.     They  have  not  infrequently  been 


224  Art  Principles 

produced,  and  sometimes  artists  of  high  rank,  as 
Reynolds  and  Lawrence,  have  painted  portraits  of 
actors  in  stage  roles,  but  never  has  one  met  with 
public  appreciation  as  a  work  of  art.  Probably  in 
most  cases  these  works  were  executed  as  mementoes 
rather  than  as  works  of  art,  for  it  is  scarcely  possible 
to  conceive  a  painter  of  the  stamp  of  Reynolds,  who 
was  so  well  acquainted  with  first  principles,  putting 
forward  even  a  portrait  of  Garrick  in  a  stage  r61e,  as 
a  serious  work,  notwithstanding  that  he  might  well 
know  that  it  was  a  masterpiece  in  respect  of  execution. 

Humour  is  not  a  subject  for  the  painter  to  deal  with, 
for  a  humorous  picture  cannot  be  comprehended 
without  the  assistance  of  another  art.  Further, 
comedy  is  founded  upon  a  sense  of  the  ridiculous, 
which  means  distortion  of  form  or  idea.  Distortion 
of  form  would  tend  to  destroy  the  art  if  reproduced, 
and  distortion  of  idea  implies  events  in  time  which 
are  beyond  the  scope  of  the  painter.  If  any  humour 
were  exhibited  in  the  representation  of  a  single 
moment  of  action  in  a  story,  it  would  quickly  dis- 
appear, for  a  permanent  joke  is  beyond  the  range  of 
human  understanding.  In  poetry  and  fiction,  hu- 
mour may  be  appropriately  introduced,  because  here 
it  is  of  a  fugitive  character,  and  may  serve  as  a 
possible  relief  of  the  mind,  as  a  discordant  note  in 
music;  but  in  a  painting,  the  moment  of  humour  is 
fixed,  and  a  fixed  laugh  suggests  mental  disorder. 

Nor  is  there  place  in  the  art  of  the  painter  for 
works  intending  to  convey  satire  or  irony,  for  such 
pictures  also  mean  distortion.  Moreover  they  are 
merely  substitutes  for,  or  adjuncts  to,  the  art  of 


Secondary  Art  225 

writing.  The  object  of  caricature  is  to  present  an 
idea  in  a  more  direct  and  rapid  way  than  it  can  be 
expressed  in  writing,  and  not  specially  to  exhibit 
beauty,  which  is  the  purpose  of  the  painter.  Ho- 
garth's many  caricatures  are  composed  of  superlative 
signs  of  writing,  and  not  of  any  fine  art.  Cartoons 
(as  the  word  is  commonly  understood)  are  of  the 
nature  of  allegory,  and  may  afford  scope  for  the 
painter,  but  as  they  necessarily  refer  to  more  or  less 
fleeting  conditions  of  a  political  or  social  character, 
they  cannot  retain  permanent  interest. 

Allegorical  paintings  are  secondary  art  when  they 
endeavour  to  cover  more  than  a  moment  of  time 
in  a  single  design,  or  when  the  allegory  is  merely 
a  metaphor  applying  to  action.  The  first  variety  is 
rarely  seen  in  modern  works,  but  it  was  not  very 
uncommon  from  the  fifteenth  to  the  seventeenth 
century,  though  it  was  never  produced  by  first-class 
artists,  and  seldom  indeed  by  those  of  the  second 
rank.  Quite  a  number  of  works  of  this  period,  form- 
erly supposed  to  have  an  allegorical  signification, 
are  now  properly  identified  as  rarely  represented 
mythological  legends,  or  historical  incidents  which 
have  only  lately  been  unearthed,^  and  we  may  rest 
assured  from  internal  evidence  that  many  others 
of  the  same  kind  will  yet  be  newly  interpreted.  A 
good  design  cannot  be  produced  from  an  event  in 
time  because  the  figures  in  a  presumed  action  must 
be  shown  in  repose,''  or  else  the  action  appears  in- 

a  Examples  are  Lorenzo  Costa's  Cupid  Crowning  Isabella  d'Este, 
Giorgione's  Adrastus  and  Hypsipyle,  and  Piero  di  Cosimo's  Marsyas 
picture.  t>  Religion  Succoured  by  Spain,  the  Prado,  Madrid. 

15 


226  Art  Principles 

congruous  and  opposed  to  experience,  as  when  a 
goddess  is  overpowered  by  a  personage  with  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  human  being.*  In  both  cases  the 
figures  must  seem  to  be  falsities.  Designs  of  the 
first  kind  can  only  be  properly  represented  in  a  se- 
quence of  pictures,  each  indicating  a  particular 
action,  as  in  the  Marie  de'  Medici  series  of  Rubens; 
and  those  of  the  second  by  commonly  accepted 
figures  of  sacred  or  mythological  history  or  legend, 
as  where  St.  Michael  and  the  Dragon  typify  Good 
overcoming  Evil. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  do  more  than  barely 
refer  to  the  use  of  metaphor  by  the  painter  when  the 
representation  of  action  is  involved,  as  for  instance 
if  he  should  produce  a  picture  of  a  heaving  ship  in  a 
storm,  to  meet  the  metaphor  "As  a  ship  is  tossed  on  a 
rough  sea,  so  has  been  the  course  of  my  life,  "  though 
this  kind  of  picture  has  been  occasionally  executed, 
the  artist  forgetting  that  it  is  not  the  object  depicted 
that  is  compared,  but  the  action — in  the  example 
quoted,  the  tossing  of  the  ship — which  cannot  be 
represented  on  canvas.  Another  form  of  metaphor 
sometimes  used  by  the  painter  is  that  where  a  com- 
parison of  ideas  is  represented  by  physical  propor- 
tions, as  in  Wiertz's  Things  of  the  Present  as  seen  by 
the  Future,  in  which  the  things  of  the  present  are 
indicated  by  liliputian  figures  on  the  hand  of  a  woman 
of  life  size  who  represents  the  future.  Needless  to 
say  that  such  designs,  of  which  there  are  about  a 
dozen  in  existence,  can  only  suggest  distortion,  for 
the  smaller  figures  must  appear  too  small,  and  the 

a  Lotto's  Triumph  of  Chastity,  Rospigliosi  Gallery,  Rome. 


Secondary  Art  227 

larger  ones  too  great;  or  if  our  experience  with 
miniature  imitations  of  the  human  figure  warrants 
us  in  regarding  the  smaller  figures  as  reasonable,  then 
the  larger  ones  must  appear  as  giants  of  the  Brob- 
dingnagian  order. 

The  only  form  of  metaphor  which  may  be  used  by 
the  painter  is  that  wherein  a  beautiful  symbol  typi- 
fies a  high  abstract  quality.  Metaphor  belongs 
properly  to  the  arts  of  the  poet  and  novelist  who  can 
indicate  the  symbol  and  things  symbolized  in  im- 
mediate succession,  so  that  the  whole  meaning  is 
apparent.  The  painter  can  only  represent  the  sym- 
bol, and  unless  this  is  beautiful  and  its  purport 
readily  comprehended,  his  sign  is  merely  a  hieroglyph 
— a  sign  of  writing.  Secondary  art  includes  sym- 
bolic painting  when  the  symbol  may  represent  either 
the  symbol  itself  or  the  thing  symbolized,  for  such  a 
condition  involves  a  confusion  of  ideas  which  tends 
to  destroy  the  aesthetic  effect  of  the  work.  The  most 
notable  painting  of  this  kind  is  Holman  Hunt's 
The  Scapegoat,  where  the  design  shows  only  a  goat 
in  desert  country.  The  scapegoat  has  ceased  to  be  an 
actuality  for  centuries,  and  the  only  meaning  of  the 
term  as  it  is  now  used  applies  to  a  man :  hence,  with 
the  title  the  goat  appears  to  be  a  symbol  of  both  a  man 
and  an  animal,  while  without  the  title  it  is  merely  the 
image  of  a  goat  without  symbolism.  But  the  con- 
ception of  an  animal  of  any  kind  as  a  symbol  is 
foreign  to  the  art  of  the  painter  whose  symbol  should 
always  be  beautiful,  whatever  the  nature  of  the 
representation. 


CHAPTER  XV 


COLOUR 


In  itself  colour  has  no  virtues  which  are  not 
governed  by  immutable  laws.  These  are  apart 
from  the  exercise  of  human  faculties,  the  recognition 
of  colour  harmony  being  involuntary  and  entirely 
dependent  upon  the  condition  of  the  optic  nerves. 
Thus  there  can  be  no  meaning  in  colour  apart  from 
its  application  to  form,  and  the  extent  to  which  it 
may  be  properly  used  in  the  representation  of  form 
is  necessarily  bound  by  our  experience  of  nature. 
Other  things  being  equal,  the  most  perfect  painting 
is  that  wherein  there  is  a  just  balance  between  the 
colour  and  the  form,  that  is  to  say,  where  the  colour 
is  not  so  vivid  as  to  act  upon  the  sense  nerves  before 
the  general  beauty  of  the  work  is  appreciated,  or  so 
feeble  or  discordant  that  its  want  of  natural  truth 
is  immediately  presented  to  the  mind,  thus  disturb- 
ing the  impression  of  the  design. 

As  with  metrical  form  in  poetry,  the  importance 
of  colour  in  painting  varies  inversely  with  the  char- 
acter of  the  art.  In  the  highest  art,  where  ideals 
are  dealt  with,  colour  is  of  the  least  importance.  A 
composition  with  ideal  figures  may  be  produced  by 
drawing  only,  that  is  to  say,  by  the  use  of  a  single 

228 


Colour  229 

tone  in  outline  and  shading.  The  addition  of  colour 
heightens  the  beauty  of  a  composition  of  this  kind, 
not  so  much  because  of  the  new  sensorial  harmony- 
acquired,  as  for  the  reason  that  a  painting  in  colours, 
corresponding  better  than  a  colourless  drawing  with 
our  experience  of  nature,  assists  in  defining  the  work 
and  so  reduces  the  fractional  time  necessary  for 
the  recognition  of  the  general  beauty  of  the  design, 
which  is  a  matter  of  importance.  The  comparatively 
small  value  of  colour  in  the  highest  art  is  demon- 
strated by  experience.  If  we  were  to  choose  from 
paintings  known  to  us,  those  which  general  opinion 
regards  as  the  very  greatest  works,  we  should 
unquestionably  name  the  frescoes  of  Raphael  and 
Michelangelo  at  the  Vatican,  and  those  of  Cor- 
reggio  at  Parma.  These,  with  a  few  easel  pictures 
of  Raphael,  and  perhaps  a  dozen  other  pictures 
by  various  masters,  are  the  only  works  of  the 
painter's  art  to  which  the  term  "sublime"  may  be 
properly  applied.  As  with  the  great  epic  poems, 
they  are  concerned  entirely  with  ideals — with  per- 
sonages far  above  the  level  of  life,  rising  to  the 
spiritual  domain — or  with  human  beings  as  they 
would  be  if  the  highest  conceptions  of  our  imagina- 
tion were  possible  of  realization.  When  we  recall 
these  splendid  legacies  of  genius  to  our  minds,  and 
ponder  over  the  apparently  limitless  range  of  human 
vision  which  they  evidence,  it  is  the  designs  that 
absorb  us,  and  not  the  colour — the  forms  and  ex- 
pression, and  not  the  tints  by  which  their  definition 
is  assisted.  We  do  not  usually  analyse  the  impres- 
sion we  receive  from  these  frescoes  and  pictures. 


230  Art  Principles 

but  were  we  to  do  so,  it  would  be  borne  in  upon  our 
minds  that  while  a  Raphael,  a  Michelangelo,  or  a 
Correggio,  would  be  required  to  conceive  and  execute 
such  stupendous  designs,  many  thousands  of  un- 
known patient  workers  could  be  found  to  colour 
them  efficiently.  On  the  other  hand  if  we  remove 
the  colour  from  the  greatest  landscape  known  to  us, 
we  find  that  most  of  the  beauty  of  the  work  has 
disappeared,  and  that  we  have  only  a  kind  of  skele- 
ton left,  for  the  beauty  of  such  a  picture  rests  very 
largely  upon  the  aerial  perspective,  which  is  unob- 
tainable without  colour. 

That  the  appreciation  of  colour  is  relative  to  the 
character  of  the  design  may  be  observed  from  com- 
mon experience.  We  may  see  the  Sistine  Madonna 
half  a  dozen  times  and  then  be  unable  to  recall  the 
colours  when  bringing  the  picture  to  mind,  so  small 
an  effect  have  they  had  upon  us  as  compared  with 
that  of  the  majesty  and  general  beauty  of  the  central 
figure.  So  with  many  of  Raphael's  other  pictures. 
It  is  a  common  thing  for  one  to  call  attention  to  the 
superb  colouring  of  an  easel  picture  by  Correggio, 
but  how  rarely  does  an  observer  notice  the  colouring 
of  his  frescoes  at  Parma,  which  are  his  masterpieces  ? 
With  some  of  the  Venetian  artists,  the  colouring  is 
often  so  brilliant,  not  to  say  startling,  that  it  seems 
to  overpower  the  observer  for  a  moment,  and  neces- 
sity compels  him  to  accustom  himself  to  the  tones 
before  considering  the  design.  The  colouring  of 
Titian  is  not  so  strong,  but  it  is  always  forcible; 
nevertheless  one  seldom  hears  a  comment  upon  the 
colours  in  his  works,  the  superior  design  and  general 


Colour  231 

beauty  of  the  compositions  far  outweighing  the  purely 
sensorial  elements  therein.  Titian  in  fact  secured 
an  approximately  just  balance  between  form  and 
colour,  while  with  his  great  followers  the  colour 
usually  exceeded  in  strength  the  requirements  of  the 
design.  In  the  time  of  Tintoretto  and  Veronese 
the  prestige  and  prosperity  of  Venice  were  rapidly 
declining,  but  we  have  been  so  accustomed  to 
associate  with  this  city  during  the  Renaissance,  a 
luxurious  life  with  something  of  the  character  of  an 
Eastern  court,  that  gorgeous  colour  of  any  kind  does 
not  seem  out  of  place  as  one  of  its  products.  But 
this  special  appropriateness  has  not  the  effect  of 
elevating  the  gay  coloured  voluptuous  forms  of  the 
artists  named,  observable  in  their  classical  and  alle- 
gorical works,  to  a  high  level  in  art.  We  cannot  ac- 
commodate the  forms  to  the  ideas  of  the  poets  who 
invented  or  described  them,  or  to  the  attributes 
with  which  they  were  commonly  associated;  and 
the  colouring  tends  to  bring  them  closer  to  earth. 
While  we  feel  bound  to  admire  the  colouring,  we 
are  equally  compelled  to  regret  the  particular 
application/^ 

Speaking  generally,  when  the  design  is  good  we 
remember  the  composition  irrespective  of  the  col- 
ours, but  when  the  beauty  of  the  work  depends  upon 
the  colour  harmony  it  fades  from  our  memory  as 
soon  as  our  eyes  experience  new  colour  combinations. 
The  imagination  may  call  up  the  harmony  again 
upon  the  mind,  but  the  pleasure  experienced  from 
this  reflection  must  be  very  feeble  indeed  because 
the  senses   are  not  directly  affected  thereby.     It 


232  Art  Principles 

can  have  no  more  effect  than  a  written  description 
of  the  harmony. 

The  painter  is  at  Hberty  to  make  what  use  he  will 
of  colour  so  long  as  he  provides  a  thing  of  beauty, 
but  he  must  remember  that  the  appreciation  of  colour 
harmony  is  dependent  not  only  upon  the  condi- 
tion of  the  optic  nerves  of  the  observer,  but  also  upon 
his  experience  at  the  time  of  observation.  As  to  the 
first  consideration  little  heed  need  be  taken,  because 
rudimentarily  the  nerve  structure  is  equal  or  nearly 
so,  in  all  persons,  and  while  accident  at  birth  may 
provide  in  some  an  advanced  condition  which  in 
others  is  only  obtained  by  exercise,  yet  in  respect 
of  colours,  experience  in  complex  harmony  is  gained 
involuntarily  in  contact  with  every-day  nature. 
Hence  for  the  purpose  of  the  painter,  all  men  may 
be  considered  alike  in  regard  to  the  recognition  of 
colour  harmony.  But  individual  experience  at  the 
time  of  observation  of  a  painting  varies  largely,^' 
a  circumstance  which  is  not  of  importance  in  dealing 
with  works  of  the  higher  art,  but  becomes  of  great 
significance  when  considering  the  lower  forms.  No 
organ  of  the  body  is  so  susceptible  to  fatigue  as  the 
eye,  and  a  painting  of  the  kind  known  as  a  colour 
scheme  may  or  may  not  be  pleasing  according  as  the 
tone  is  a  relief  or  otherwise  to  the  sight.  Sometimes 
a  few  seconds  are  sufficient  to  fatigue  the  eye,  as  for 
instance  when  it  is  directed  towards  a  vivid  maroon 
hanging,  but  let  a  landscape  with  a  grey  tone  be 
placed  on  the  hanging  and  considerable  pleasure 
will  be  involuntarily  experienced  through  the  relief 
to  the  optic  nerves.     Remove  the  picture  to  a  grey 


Pi 


p       ^ 


OQ 


Colour  233 

wall,  and  it  will  instantly  lose  its  charm,  except  such 
as  it  may  possess  apart  from  the  colour. 

As  with  particular  tones,  so  with  colours  generally. 
People  habituated  to  conditions  of  nature  where 
extremes  of  sun  effects  are  uncommon,  as  in  the 
northern  latitudes,  may  be  temporarily  pleased  with 
schemes  of  glowing  colours  on  their  walls,  because 
these  relieve  the  monotony  of  daily  experience,  but 
they  must  necessarily  quickly  tire,  as  with  all  ex- 
ceptional conditions  of  life  which  are  concerned  with 
the  senses  only.  How  soon  one  is  fatigued  with 
bright  colours  generally  is  obvious  to  any  visitor  to  a 
public  gallery  which  is  crowded  with  pictures.  In 
an  hour  or  less  the  fatigue  of  his  eyes  becomes  so 
extreme  that  his  whole  nervous  system  is  affected, 
and  he  loses  energy  of  both  mind  and  body.  But 
brilliant  colors  used  sparingly  with  good  designs  may 
be  a  perpetual  source  of  pleasure.  Place  a  fine  work 
by  Rubens  or  Paolo  Veronese  in  a  living-room  and  it 
will  attract  attention  every  time  one  enters,  for  the 
colouring  will  always  be  a  change  from  the  normal 
eye  experience.  One  turns  to  the  picture  involun- 
tarily, and  then  the  design  is  observed,  and  so  one 
passes  from  sensual  to  intellectual  pleasure.  This 
process  is  repeated  day  by  day,  and  the  work  never 
tires.  Of  course  it  is  a  condition  that  the  design 
is  able  to  hold  the  attention,  otherwise  the  bright 
colours  would  serve  little  better  purpose  than  if  they 
defined  a  geometrical  pattern. 

Nowadays  quite  a  number  of  paintings  are  pro- 
duced in  which  unusual  tones  are  given  to  signs  or 
shadows,  but  these  are  not  to  be  taken  seriously  by 


234  Art  Principles 

the  earnest  student.  In  the  sunHght,  amidst  certain 
surroundings,  the  arm  of  a  woman  may  appear  for 
some  moments  to  have  a  bluish  tone,  but  the  artist 
would  be  entirely  wrong  to  paint  a  bluish  arm.  The 
picture  is  to  be  seen  under  all  lights,  and  if  the  tones 
be  contrary  to  general  experience  under  any  of  these 
lights,  then  the  work  appears  to  be  a  falsity,  for  the 
artist  does  not,  and  cannot,  reproduce  the  conditions 
which  together  bring  about  the  exceptional  colours. 
To  the  normal  eye  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
the  arm  of  a  woman  is  of  flesh  colour,  and  the  artist 
is  not  at  liberty  to  vary  this  tone.  He  has  to  repre- 
sent what  appears  to  be  true  in  general  opinion, 
whether  it  be  really  true  or  not  under  certain  con- 
ditions. The  dictum  of  Aristotle  in  regard  to  poetry 
— that  what  appears  probable,  though  in  reality  is 
impossible,  is  better  than  what  seems  improbable 
but  is  really  possible — is  equally  true  in  painting. 
In  fact  it  is  of  more  importance  that  this  maxim 
should  be  remembered  in  painting  than  in  poetry, 
because  the  signs  of  the  painter  are  permanent.  A 
poet  or  novelist  may  refer  to  a  passing  exceptional 
sun  effect,  for  the  impression  on  the  mind  of  the 
reader  would  probably  be  as  transient  as,  or  more 
transient  than,  the  effect  itself,  but  with  the  painter 
the  transient  effect  becomes  fixed.  The  blue  arm  is 
always  blue,  and  in  a  very  short  time  becomes  a 
disagreeable  unreality.  It  may  be  claimed  that  the 
objectionable  sun  effects  are  not  really  exceptional, 
though  they  are  seldom  noticed ;  but  for  the  purpose 
of  art,  what  appears  to  be  exceptional  must  be 
definitely  regarded  as  so,  and  for  this  reason  dis- 


Colour  235 

carded  by  the  artist  who  desires  to  paint  a  good 
picture. 

Generally  then,  the  value  of  colour  lies  firstly  in  its 
correspondence  with  nature,  for  upon  this  depends 
its  harmony  and  the  assistance  it  lends  to  the  recog- 
nition of  the  beauty  in  the  whole  composition. 
Beyond  this  it  may  or  may  not  have  an  ephemeral 
value  according  to  local  conditions.  In  any  case 
colour  must  ever  be  subordinated  to  design  in  a  pic- 
ture, and  this  is  what  Poussin  meant  when  he  said 
that  particular  attention  to  colour  is  an  obstacle  to 
the  art  student. 


BOOK  II 

ILLUSIONS    IN   THE   PAINTER'S   ART 

INTRODUCTORY 

The  painter  is  occupied  in  a  perpetual  struggle  to 
produce  an  illusion.  He  does  not  directly  aim  for 
this,  but  except  in  the  very  highest  art  where  ideals 
are  realized,  the  better  the  picture  he  paints,  the 
greater  the  illusion.  The  natural  test  of  the  value 
of  his  work  is  its  correspondence  with  nature,  and 
the  nearer  it  so  corresponds,  the  more  complete  the 
illusion.  But  the  whole  picture  is  never  an  illusion 
(we  leave  out  of  consideration  those  instances  where 
artificial  devices  are  used  to  conceal  the  surroundings 
of  the  actual  painted  surface) ,  for  the  frame  and  other 
material  evidence  inform  us  of  the  art.  The  illusion, 
when  it  exists,  is  forced  upon  our  minds  from  moment 
to  moment  as  our  eyes  travel  over  the  work.  It 
occurs  to  us  perhaps  that  a  face  "lives,"  that  the 
drapery  is  true  to  life,  that  the  tones  are  real,  and  so 
on,  and  obviously  these  circumstances  cannot  im- 
press us  in  this  way  unless  we  are  momentarily 
deceived.  And  it  is  a  sign  of  good  quality  in  the 
work  when  we  are.  so  struck.     This  does  not  mean 

236 


Introductory  237 

that  the  closer  the  imitation,  the  better  the  picture: 
on  the  contrary  it  is  rare  to  find  a  good  work  of  art 
produced  by  an  exact  imitator.  The  duty  of  the 
artist  is  to  generalize  everything  that  can  be  general- 
ized without  departing  from  the  character  of  the 
thing  represented.  True  there  are  degrees  of  gener- 
alization which  depend  on  the  nature  of  the  design, 
the  size  of  the  work,  the  accessories,  and  other 
matters,  but  if  a  just  balance  of  generalization  be 
secured  throughout,  then  the  imitation  is  better 
than  a  closely  detailed  reproduction,  because  a  work 
is  always  involuntarily  judged  from  general,  and  not 
from  particular,  experience.  A  portrait  for  instance 
is  a  much  better  work  of  art  if  we  can  say  of  it  "  This 
is  a  good  portrait  of  a  man, ' '  than  if  we  are  compelled 
to  confine  ourselves  to  "This  is  a  good  portrait  of 
Mr.  Jones, ' '  even  if  the  lineaments  of  the  particular 
countenance  are  better  defined  in  the  latter  example 
than  in  the  former.  The  illusion  would  be  stronger, 
for  we  are  more  intimately  acquainted  with  "a 
man"  than  with  "Mr.  Jones."  And  so  with  acces- 
sories. An  exceptionally  fine  rose  or  cabbage  is  never 
so  good  in  a  painting  as  one  of  these  articles  which  is 
of  an  average  type,  because  with  this  the  illusion  is 
more  certain,  for  it  is  not  likely  to  be  disturbed  with 
a  mental  inquiry  into  the  unusual  article. 

The  painter  may  produce  his  illusions  then  without 
sacrificing  anything  in  his  art,  and  with  the  surety 
that  good  paintings  necessarily  result  in  momentary 
illusions  except  when  form  or  expression  above  life 
experience  are  dealt  with. 

The  first  and  most  important  illusion  in  the  art  is 


238  Art  Principles 

that  of  relief,  for  without  this  no  other  illusion  can 
be  produced.  It  is  a  general  condition  applying  to 
all  work  on  a  flat  surface.  The  other  illusions  that 
may  be  provided  are:  (a)  of  opening  distance  in  land- 
scape; (b)  of  motion  in  natural  actions,  as  in  flow- 
ing water;  (c)  of  human  and  animal  actions;  (d) 
of  suspension  and  motion  in  the  air.  The  two  first 
are  dealt  with  under  "Landscape";  the  others  are 
now  considered. 


CHAPTER   I 


ILLUSION   OF   RELIEF 


The  greatest  value  in  the  illusion  of  relief  lies  in 
its  assistance  to  recognition,  for  with  the  forms 
rounded  by  shading  and  separated  with  the  appear- 
ance of  relief  which  they  have  in  nature,  details  of 
the  work  are  less  likely  to  complicate  the  design  to 
the  eye,  than  if  the  flat  surface  of  the  canvas  be  em- 
phasized by  the  avoidance  of  relief.  For  the  eye 
has  to  be  considered  before  the  mind,  and  it  is  of 
immense  importance  that  the  brain  should  have  the 
least  possible  work  to  do  in  assisting  the  eye  to 
interpret  a  thing  of  art.  It  would  appear  then  that 
the  minimum  extent  to  which  relief  should  be  given 
in  a  painting  is  that  point  below  which  the  things 
painted  do  not  seem  to  have  their  three  dimensions 
indicated.  Beyond  this  the  painter  is  at  liberty  to 
proceed  as  he  pleases.  Some  great  artists,  notably 
Lionardo,  were  inclined  to  think  that  it  is  impossible 
to  give  too  much  relief  to  a  figure,  and  this  may  be  so 
theoretically,  but  practically  there  is  a  line  to  be 
drawn  because  life  is  limited,  and  after  a  certain 
point  is  reached,  the  work  of  shading  for  relief  is  so 
tedious  an  operation,  that  half  a  lifetime  would  be 
required  to  execute  a  picture  of  three  or  four  figures 

239 


240  Art  Principles 

if  the  artist  wished  to  produce  the  strongest  illusion 
in  his  power  to  give.  A  Russian  artist  of  high  merit 
who  essayed  the  task,  spent  an  average  time  of  five 
years  in  ceaseless  toil  on  each  figure  he  completed, 
and  even  then  frequently  remarked  that  he  had  not 
given  to  his  figures  the  full  relief  he  desired  to  ex- 
hibit. It  is  well  known  that  Lionardo  gave  long  and 
close  attention  to  this  matter  in  his  pictures,  and 
he  produced  some  extraordinary  examples  of  relief, 
of  which  the  finest  is,  perhaps,  the  Litta  Madonna,* 
but  one  cannot  help  regretting  that  he  did  not  rest 
satisfied  with  a  lower  point  of  excellence  in  respect 
of  the  illusion,  so  that  he  could  spend  more  time  in 
general  design. 

Apart  from  the  relief  given  by  shading  in  painting, 
there  is  an  important  mechanical  method  of  im- 
proving the  illusion,  though  this  can  only  be  occa- 
sionally adopted.  The  figures  in  any  well  painted 
picture  will  appear  to  stand  out  in  high  relief  if  we 
lose  sight  of  the  frame  and  other  surroundings  which 
distinctly  inform  us  that  the  work  is  a  flat  surface. 
This  is  why  a  painting  invariably  seems  to  improve  if 
seen  through  a  tube  of  such  diameter  that  the  frame 
is  excluded  from  the  vision.  Advantage  of  this  fact 
has  been  many  times  taken  in  the  exhibition  of 
single  pictures,  when,  by  the  exclusion  of  the  frame, 
the  concealment  of  the  edges  of  the  work  by  curtain 
arrangements,  and  the  concentration  of  all  the  avail- 
able light  upon  the  canvas,  such  perfect  relief  has 
been  obtained  that  observers  have  been  sometimes 
unable  to  distinguish  the  art  from  the  life.     It  was 

a  At  the  Hermitage.    See  Plate  21. 


PLATE    21 


The  Litta  Madonna,  by  Lionardo  da  Vinci 
{Hermitage) 


(See  page  240) 


Illusion  of  Relief  241 

the  effect  of  the  surroundings  of  a  picture  upon  the 
sight,  that  led  to  a  practice  in  design  resulting  in  the 
exclusion  of  these  surroundings  to  some  extent  when 
the  eye  is  directed  towards  the  centre  of  the  work 
where  the  principal  figure  is  commonly  stationed. 
This  practice  is  to  avoid  accessories  as  far  as  possible 
near  the  figure,  and  to  provide  considerable  open 
space  above  it,  and  also  at  the  sides  when  the  com- 
position allows,  so  that  the  observing  eye  has  not  of 
necessity  to  range  close  to  the  frame  of  the  picture. 
In  a  good  design  of  this  kind  the  central  figure  or 
figures  come  out  in  strong  relief,  the  attraction  of 
the  work  being  consequently  much  enhanced.  Ob- 
viously the  painted  figures  should  be  of  life  size,  or 
nearly  so,  for  the  illusion  of  relief  to  be  strikingly 
marked,  and  the  conditions  necessarily  prevent  the 
adoption  of  the  scheme  in  a  design  of  many  figures. 
It  is  most  successful  with  a  single  figure,  and  has  been 
carried  out  with  two  figures,  but  never  with  more 
than  two  except  in  a  few  pictures  of  great  size. 

The  number  of  artists  who  have  taken  advantage 
of  this  mechanical  device  is  not  large,  but  it  includes 
some  of  the  first  masters.  The  plan  may  be  used  in 
both  exterior  and  interior  scenes.  In  the  former  the 
figures  must  be  thrown  against  the  sky,  and  it  is  a 
distinct  advantage  if  there  be  no  trees  or  other 
objects  on  either  side  of  the  figures,  which  also  stand 
out  above  the  horizon,  though  this  is  immaterial 
if  the  figure  be  set  in  a  confined  space,  as  an  arch,  or 
between  the  columns  of  a  loggia,  and  the  foliage  is 
not  seen  through  this  space. 

The  most  famous  pictures  where  the  scheme  is 
16 


242  Art  Principles 

used  in  exterior  work  are  amongst  the  finest  portraits 
known  to  us,  namely,  Lionardo's  Mona  Lisa,  and 
Raphael's  Maddalena  Doni  and  Angelo  Doni.^  In 
1504  or  thereabouts,  Lionardo  painted  a  portrait  of 
Mona  Lisa  sitting  in  a  loggia,  the  wall  of  which 
reached  to  a  third  of  the  height  of  the  canvas.^ 
On  the  wall  at  each  side  of  the  design  is  a  column 
divided  down  the  centre  by  the  edge  of  the  canvas. 
There  is  a  landscape  setting,  in  which  the  middle 
distance  is  hidden  by  rising  ground,  and  only  part 
of  the  head  appears  above  the  horizon.  In  1505 
Raphael  made  a  study  from  this  picture  in  which  he 
retained  the  columns,  but  raised  the  wall,  and  threw 
the  whole  head  of  the  figure  against  the  sky.  He 
used  this  study  for  the  portrait  of  Maddalena  Doni, 
but  in  this  he  still  further  improved  the  design  by 
removing  the  columns,  and  extending  to  the  shoulders 
that  part  of  the  figure  above  the  horizon,  the  line  of 
which  divides  the  picture  in  equal  halves,  instead 
of  being  drawn  at  two  thirds  of  the  height  as  in 
the  first  Mona  Lisa.  When  Lionardo  executed  the 
Louvre  portrait  of  this  lady,  he  removed  the  columns, 
but  slightly  reduced  the  portion  of  the  head  seen 
against  the  sky.  Raphael's  plan,  which  was  also 
used  in  the  portrait  of  Angelo  Doni,  is  obviously  far 
superior  to  that  in  the  Mona  Lisa  design,  for  the 
relief  is  necessarily  better  marked.  The  scheme  was 
not  new  to  Raphael  at  the  time,  except  in  portraiture, 

a  The  first  at  the  Louvre,  and  the  others  at  the  Pitti  Palace,  Flor- 
ence. 

b  This  painting,  or  one  corresponding  to  it,  is  in  the  Boston 
Musetun,  U.  S.  A.    See  Note  56. 


Illusion  of  Relief  243 

for  it  is  exhibited  in  three  of  his  very  early  sacred 
works.* 

One  of  the  best  examples  in  existence  of  this  method 
of  securing  relief  is  Tintoretto's  Presentation  of  the 
Virgin.^  On  the  right  of  the  picture  is  a  wide  flight 
of  stairs,  curving  round  as  they  ascend.  The  Vir- 
gin is  moving  up  these  steps  in  advance  of  some 
attendants,  and  the  curved  stairway  enables  all  the 
figures  to  stand  out  in  fine  relief  against  the  sky. 
If  well  managed  some  considerable  space  above  the 
figures  is  sufficient  for  the  illusion  even  if  the  sides 
are  partly  closed,  as  in  Albertinelli's  beautiful 
Salutation.''  Where  only  a  small  portion  of  the 
figure  can  be  shown  above  the  horizon,  the  use  of  a 
faint  far  distance  helps  in  the  scheme  of  relief. 
Thus,  in  Marco  Basaiti's  Christ  on  the  Mount  of 
Olives,'^  where  Christ  stands  on  the  top  of  a  rock 
which  hides  the  middle  distance.  His  head  only  is 
above  the  horizon,  but  the  rest  of  the  figure  is  thrown 
against  a  faint  far  distance,  the  relief  being  excellent. 
A  modification  of  this  plan  is  observable  in  Lion- 
ardo's  Virgin  and  Child  with  St.  Anne.^ 

So  far  as  the  writer  has  been  able  to  ascertain,  the 
first  known  painting  where  a  crucifix  is  thrown 
against  the  sky  is  by  Antonella  da  Messina.^  The 
Cross  is  fixed  in  the  foreground  and  extends  to  the 
top  of  the  picture,  being  cut  half-way  up  and  just 
below  the  feet  of  Christ  by  the  line  of  the  horizon. 

a  Saint  Sebastian,  at  Bergamo;  The  Redeemer  at  Brescia;  and  The 
Prophets  and  Sybils  at  Perugia.  b  Madonna  del  Orto,  Venice, 

c  Uffizi  Gallery,  Florence.  d  Venice  Academy. 

e  The  Louvre.  '  National  Gallery,  London. 


244  Art  Principles 

The  relief  is  very  fine.  This  scheme  was  imitated 
with  more  or  less  success  but  never  quite  so  perfectly, 
till  Titian  produced  his  magnificent  Cross.  Here  the 
Crucifix  is  cast  against  a  sombre  evening  sky,  with 
the  Virgin  and  two  imploring  Saints  at  the  foot.^ 
Rubens  improved  upon  this  design  with  several 
variations.  In  one  he  hid  the  foot  of  the  Cross, 
though  the  tops  of  buildings  are  seen  in  the  middle 
distance^;  and  in  another,  which  is  still  finer,  the 
time  of  the  scene  is  late  evening,  and  dark  vague  out- 
lines suggest  a  landscape.  But  all  these  examples 
are  cast  into  the  shade  by  Van  Dyck's  Antwerp 
picture,  than  which  there  is  certainly  no  more  im- 
pressive painted  Crucifixion  in  existence.  In  this 
the  foot  of  the  Cross  is  not  shown,  nor  is  there  any 
ground  to  be  seen,  and  the  figure  stands  out  against 
a  dark  forbidding  sky,  awful,  but  sublimely  real,  as 
if  set  in  boundless  space  for  all  eternity.'' 

There  are  many  variations  of  the  above  designs, 
particularly  among  the  works  of  Venetian  artists, 
but  those  quoted  may  be  regarded  as  typical.  How 
easy  it  is  to  hinder  the  illusion  is  seen  in  Sodoma's 
Sacrifice  of  Abraham,*^  where  both  figures  are  set 
against  the  sky,  but  trees  behind  them  and  at  the 
side  destroy  the  relief,  though  the  foliage  is  by  no 
means  thick.  In  Girolami  da  Libri's  Madonna  and 
Child  with  St.  Anne,  a  pomegranate  tree  interposes  ^; 
and  a  curtain  falls  at  the  back  of  a  group  by  Bema- 

a  Ancona  Gallery.  b  Antwerp  Museum. 

c  This  work  was  repeated  several   times    with   variations.     See 
Plate  22. 
d  Pisa  Cathedral.  e  National  Gallery,  London. 


Illusion  of  Relief  245 

dino  da  Conti,^  the  illusion  in  both  cases  being  con- 
sequently robbed  of  its  effect. 

Some  of  the  Dutch  artists  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury used  a  clear  sky  for  the  purpose  of  enhancing 
the  relief  of  their  figures,  but  as  these  are  usually  of 
a  comparatively  small  size,  the  result  is  only  par- 
tially effective.  Albert  Cuyp  and  Philip  Wouver- 
man  painted  many  pictures  with  men  and  animals 
silhouetted  above  the  horizon,  and  Paul  Potter 
executed  a  few  of  the  kind,  but  of  all  Dutch  painters, 
Jan  Steen  secured  the  best  relief  with  his  Terrace 
Scene, '^  In  more  recent  times  the  scheme  has  seldom 
been  adopted  for  the  purpose  of  relief,  but  a  few 
Scottish  painters  practised  it  in  the  early  nineteenth 
century.  Simson  followed  Cuyp's  plan,''  and  Dyce 
in  a  sacred  piece  equalled  the  best  of  the  old  masters 
in  his  manner  of  producing  the  illusion.*^  Grant 
also  painted  a  fine  example.®  Some  portrait  painters 
of  the  English  school  of  the  eighteenth  century  used 
the  scheme  in  a  partial  way,  but  they  commonly 
placed  clouds  behind  the  figures  thrown  against  the 
sky,  thus  disturbing  the  illusion. 

There  is  only  one  method  of  using  this  device  for 
assisting  in  the  production  of  relief  in  interiors. 
This  is  to  throw  the  figure  against  a  high  wall  which 
is  undecorated  or  nearly  so.     The  figure  must  be 

a  Poldo  Pezzoli  Museum,  Milan. 

t>  National  Gallery,  London. 

c  National  Gallery,  Edinburgh. 

d  St.  John  Leading  the  Virgin  from  the  Tomb,  National  Gallery  of 
British  Art,  London. 

e  The  Countess  of  Chesterfield  and  Mrs.  Anson,  Gilmour  Collection, 
Scotland. 


246  Art  Principles 

some  little  distance  in  front  of  the  wall,  and  it  is 
observable  that  the  best  effect  is  obtained  when  the 
light  throughout  the  room  is  equal,  but  in  any  case 
the  wall  should  not  have  less  light  than  the  figure. 
Inasmuch  as  the  figure  has  to  be  of  life  size  or  nearly 
so,  to  produce  the  desired  result,  a  very  large  picture 
would  be  necessary  for  the  representation  of  a 
standing  adult ;  hence  the  plan  is  not  attempted  with 
a  life-size  figure,  except  with  a  sitting  adult  or  a 
standing  child.  Before  this  scheme  was  used  for  the 
human  figure,  that  master  of  relief,  M.  A.  Cara- 
vaggio,  adopted  it  for  a  simple  still-life  work.^  A 
basket  of  fruit  on  a  plain  table,  with  a  high  bare  wall 
at  the  back — the  canvas  now  sombre  and  darkened, 
like  the  soul  of  the  artist,  but  still  remarkable  for  the 
relief:  this  was  the  first  application  to  interiors  of  a 
plan  which  had  been  used  in"exteriors  by  some  of  the 
greatest  masters  for  more  than  a  century. 

So  far  as  can  be  gathered  from  existing  works, 
thirty  or  forty  years  elapsed  after  the  picture  of 
Caravaggio  was  painted  before  the  scheme  was 
brought  into  use  for  the  human  figure  in  interiors. 
In  1630,  or  thereabouts,  Velasquez  produced  his 
Christ  at  the  Column.^  Here  the  wall  is  not  actually 
high,  but  Christ  is  shown  seated  on  the  floor,  and 
hence  there  is  ample  wall  space  over  which  the  eye 
may  rove.  It  is  possible  that  the  adoption  of  the 
plan  in  this  instance  was  the  result  of  accident,  but 
the  very  unusual  pose  of  Christ  hardly  warrants  the 
suggestion.  Velasquez  painted  no  more  pictures  of 
the  kind  till  a  quarter  of  a  century  later,  when  he 

a  Ambrogia  Museum,  Milan.  t»  The  Prado,  Madrid. 


Illusion  of  Relief  247 

produced  Las  Meninas.  In  this  the  relief  is  excel- 
lent, but  it  would  have  been  still  better  without  the 
picture  on  the  wall,  and  the  open  door  in  the  back- 
ground, though  the  figure  seen  on  the  steps  through 
the  doorway  lends  assistance  to  the  illusion. 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
some  followers  of  the  Neapolitan  school  used  the 
plan  occasionally,  but  the  best  existing  Italian  works 
of  the  time  where  it  is  seen  are  from  the  hand  of 
Evaristo  Baschenis,  a  Bergamese  monk.  He  was  an 
excellent  painter  of  still-life,  and  produced  several 
pictures,  each  with  a  boy  or  a  woman  seated  in  the 
middle  of  a  room  near  a  plain  table  on  which  rests  a 
dish  of  fruit  or  a  gathering  of  various  articles,  while 
at  the  back  there  is  a  high  bare  wall.  In  all  of  these 
works  a  fine  relief  is  exhibited,  though  they  are  now 
considerably  marred  by  darkened  shadows.  A  few 
years  later  the  plan  was  adopted  by  some  Dutch 
artists,  and  later  still  in  France  and  Germany. 
Chardin,  who  in  more  ways  than  one  seems  to  have 
been  a  French  Baschenis,  used  it  in  several  pictures. 
In  recent  times  since  the  study  of  Velasquez  has 
become  a  vogue,  many  artists  have  successfully 
followed  the  plan,  and  one  of  the  finest  examples  of 
it  in  existence — Lydia  Emmet's  Patricia'' — dates  as 
late  as  1915. 

There  are  several  minor  mechanical  ways  of  en- 
hancing relief,  most  of  them  providing  a  setting  which 
acts  as  a  kind  of  inner  frame  to  the  design,  the  object 
being  to  reduce  the  effect  of  the  actual  frame  in 

a  Exhibition  of  the  National  (American)  Association  of  Portrait 
Painters,  N.  Y.,  1915.     See  Plate  23. 


248  Art  Principles 

disturbing  the  illusion.  Portrait  painters  of  the 
Dutch,  Flemish,  and  English  schools,  have  often 
placed  half  length  figures  in  painted  ovals  on  canvas 
rectangles,  and  in  the  case  of  Hals  he  sometimes 
further  improved  the  illusion  by  extending  a  hand 
of  the  subject  over  the  oval.  Hanneman  used  this 
oval  in  a  most  exceptional  way.  On  a  large  canvas 
he  painted  the  bust  portraits  of  Constantine  Huy- 
gens  and  his  six  children,  each  in  a  separate  oval, 
the  father  being  in  the  centre.^  The  scheme  is 
strangely  effective,  for  the  attention  of  the  observer 
is  involuntarily  confined  to  one  portrait  at  a  time. 
In  genre  pictures  a  doorway  may  act  as  the  inner 
frame,  but  this  is  only  of  material  value  if  the  picture 
be  of  considerable  size.  The  Dutch  painters,  notably 
Gerard  Dow,  loved  to  paint  figures  leaning  over 
window-sills,  this  method  usually  enhancing  the 
relief,  because  the  eye  is  apt  to  be  confined  for  a 
time  to  the  window-frame.  Perhaps  the  best  use  of 
a  window  for  the  purpose  of  relief  is  Rembrandt's 
Samson  Menacing  His  Father-in-law,  where  the 
old  man's  head  and  hands,  of  life  size,  are  seen  pro- 
truding from  a  small  window.^ 

a  Hague  Gallery.  b  Berlin  Galler}, . 


CHAPTER   II 

ILLUSION   OF   MOTION 

With  human  figures — With  animals. 

From  the  earliest  times  great  sculptors,  in  produc- 
ing a  single  figure  in  action,  have  chosen  for  the 
representation  a  moment  of  rest  between  two  steps 
in  the  action,  so  that  the  character  of  these  steps  is 
instantly  recognized  by  the  observer,  whose  imagina- 
tion unconsciously  carries  through  the  action.  If 
every  part  of  the  figure  is  built  up  conformably  with 
the  action,  with  due  regard  to  the  position  from  which 
the  statue  is  to  be  seen,  an  illusion  of  motion  will 
follow,  though  this  is  necessarily  so  rapid  that  the 
effect  upon  the  observer  is  indirect :  he  translates  the 
impression  into  appreciation  of  the  lifelike  attitude 
of  the  figure.  Nearly  all  the  ancient  Greek  sculp- 
tured figures  known  to  us,  commencing  with  those 
of  Myron,  are  characterized  by  this  excellence  in 
design,  and  so  with  the  best  work  of  the  Italian 
Renaissance.  Modern  sculptors  of  repute  have  also 
endeavoured  to  provide  the  illusion,  Rodin  in  par- 
ticular holding  that  it  should  be  the  aim  of  every 
sculptor.  ^9 

The  painter  is  in  a  different  position  from  the 
sculptor  because  the  latter  may  design  his  figure 

249 


250  Art  Principles 

with  special  reference  to  the  position  it  is  to  occupy, 
and  so  he  can  in  a  measure  compel  the  observer  to 
see  it  in  a  particular  way.  Thus,  the  base  of  the. 
statue  may  be  some  height  above  the  ground,  in 
which  case  the  observer  must  necessarily  run  his  eyes 
up  the  figure  from  the  feet;  or  it  may  be  seen  first 
in  a  three-quarter  view  so  that  the  position  of  the 
limbs  will  apparently  change  as  the  observer  moves  to 
the  front.  Such  accidental  circumstances  may  be 
considered  by  the  sculptor  in  his  plan.  The  painter 
has  no  such  advantage,  for  his  figure  is  the  same  from 
whichever  point  it  is  to  be  seen,  within  reasonable 
limits;  but  he  has  compensation  in  the  use  of  tones 
and  accessories  of  which  the  sculptor  is  deprived. 
That  the  painter  may  provide  an  excellent  illusion 
with  a  single  figure  in  action  is  evidenced  by  Ra- 
phael's superb  St.  Margaret,  where  the  Saint  is  seen 
stepping  over  the  dragon.^  Every  part  of  her  body, 
and  every  fold  of  drapery  is  used  in  the  expression 
of  movement,  the  effect  being  so  perfect  that  we 
cannot  disassociate  the  figure  from  the  action.''" 

The  painters  of  the  first  century  of  the  Renais- 
sance never  properly  represented  a  figure  in  the  act 
of  walking,  and  there  are  few  pictures  even  of  the 
fifteenth  century  where  a  serious  attempt  is  made  to 
choose  the  best  moment  in  which  to  exhibit  such  a 
figure.  The  first  successful  essay  in  the  task  seems 
to  have  been  in  The  Tribute  Money  of  Masaccio,'' 
who  indeed  was  fifty  years  ahead  of  his  fellows  in 
the  faithful  representation  of  action.     There  was  a 

a  At  the  Louvre.     See  Plate  27. 

b  Santa  Maria  del  Carmine,  Florence. 


Illusion  of  Motion  251 

jump  of  two  decades  or  so  after  Masaccio  to  the 
next  good  figure,  which  was  that  of  an  attendant  in 
Filipo  Lippi's  complex  tondo  at  Florence. f  This 
figure  must  have  caused  considerable  surprise  at  the 
time,  for  it  was  copied  into  several  works  by  sub- 
sequent artists,  notably  Domenico  Ghiriandaio,^ 
and  probably  suggested  the  fine  figure  carrying  a 
jar  of  water  on  her  head  in  Raphael's  Fire  at  the 
Borgo.'^  But  Raphael,  who  mastered  every  problem 
in  composition,  solved  this  one  so  completely  that  he 
left  nothing  for  his  successors  to  learn  respecting  it. 
Not  only  are  the  limbs  of  his  moving  figures  so  per- 
fectly arranged  that  we  see  only  action,  but  folds  of 
the  drapery  used  on  the  figures  are  sufficient  to  in- 
dicate preceding  movements,"^  and  this  is  so  even 
when  the  figures  are  stationary,  but  the  head,  arms, 
or  upper  part  of  the  body  have  moved.  ^  This  ex- 
traordinary feature  of  Raphael's  work  will  ever  form 
a  subject  of  astonishment  and  admiration. 

The  painter  has  a  comparatively  easy  task  in  pre- 
senting an  illusion  with  several  figures  presumed  to 
be  moving,  for  he  has  only  to  comply  with  two  simple 
conditions.  The  first  is  that  the  particular  step 
represented  in  the  act  of  progression  of  any  individ- 
ual should  vary  from  the  steps  of  the  persons  im- 
mediately behind  or  in  front  of  him ;  and  secondly 

a  Madonna  and  Child  with  other  scenes  from  her  life,  Uffizi, 
Florence. 

t>  Birth  of  St.  John  Baptist,  Santa  Maria  Novello,  Florence. 

c  Fresco  at  the  Vatican. 

d  See  Deliverance  of  St.  Peter,  Flight  of  Lot  and  his  Family,  Moses 
Striking  the  Rock,  and  others  at  the  Vatican. 

e  The  Transfiguration,  Vatican. 


252  Art  Principles 

that  the  actions  of  the  different  persons  be  con- 
nected with  each  other  so  far  as  possible.  With  these 
conditions  reasonably  fulfilled,  illusion  of  motion 
necessarily  follows.  Naturally  in  such  a  mechanical 
matter,  the  character  of  the  invention  depends  upon 
the  scale  of  the  design.  When  the  moving  figures 
are  presumed  to  be  comparatively  near  at  hand,  the 
position  of  the  limbs  must  be  entirely  presented,  or 
the  progression  will  appear  broken.  The  effective 
illusion  presented  in  Bume- Jones's  Golden  Staircase 
is  due  to  his  ingenuity  in  so  arranging  the  numerous 
figures  descending  the  winding  stairs,  that  all  their 
feet  are  visible.  In  the  case  of  a  crowd  of  figures  of 
whom  some  are  supposed  to  be  moving  and  others 
standing  still,  the  visibility  of  the  limbs  is  of  less 
importance  than  the  connection  of  the  various 
actions.  In  Menzel's  Market  in  Verona,^  the  illu- 
sion, which  is  remarkable,  is  entirely  produced  by 
the  skill  in  which  innumerable  instances  of  action  are 
made  dependent  upon  others.  An  illusion  is  created 
in  the  same  way  though  in  a  lesser  degree  by  Gus- 
tave  Dore  in  several  works. ^  When  the  motion 
arises  from  the  actions  of  the  arms  of  a  number  of 
persons,  it  suffices  if  the  arms  are  in  various  positions, 
as  in  Menzel's  Iron  Mill,  and  Cavalori's  Woolworkers " 
where  many  men  are  using  long  tools;  but  if  the 
limbs  are  working  together,  an  illusion  is  impossible. 
The  beauty  of  Guardi's  great  picture.  Regatta  on  the 
Grand  Canal,  is  much  diminished  by  the  attitude  of 

a  Dresden  Gallery. 

b  See  Samson  Slaying  the  Philistines. 

c  Palazzo  Vecchio,  Florence. 


PLATE    22 


Christ  on  the  Cross,  by  Van  Dyck 
(Antwerp  Museum) 


(See  page  244) 


Illusion  of  Motion  253 

the  gondoliers,  who  all  hold  their  poles  in  the  same 
position. 

Where  many  persons  are  moving  together  in  the 
same  direction,  great  care  has  to  be  exercised  in  pre- 
senting the  actions  conformably  with  the  rate  at 
which  the  movement  is  proceeding,  for  upon  this  of 
course  depends  the  angles  of  the  bended  knees,  and 
the  extent  to  which  some  of  the  feet  may  be  carried 
from  the  ground.  In  slow  natural  movements,  as 
where  a  number  of  men  are  dragging  a  heavy  burden, 
it  is  rare  to  find  an  artist  wrong  in  his  representation  ^ ; 
but  in  the  case  of  numerous  figures  walking  irregu- 
larly, a  true  nearground  design  is  uncommon,  the 
painter  usually  giving  insufficient  action,  with  the 
result  that  his  figures  present  a  stagy  appearance.^ 
But  a  defect  of  this  kind  is  not  so  serious  as  where 
several  men,  not  being  in  marching  order,  are  moving 
in  the  same  direction  with  their  feet  in  similar  posi- 
tions, and  each  with  a  foot  off  the  ground,  *=  for  this 
is  only  an  aggravation  of  a  case  where  the  picture 
shows  but  a  single  figure  walking  with  one  foot  in 
the  air. 

An  illusion  of  motion  may  be  given  to  a  line  of 
figures  in  the  middle  distance  of  a  landscape  by 
simply  winding  the  road  along  which  they  pass*^; 
but  the  angles  of  the  turns  must  be  large,  for  when 

a  For  good  examples  see  Benoit's  Morning  of  July  14,  1789, 
Po3mter's  Building  the  Treasure  City,  and  Colton's  Royal  Artillery 
Memorial  (sculptured  relief). 

t"  Dehodencq's  Bohemians  Returning  from  a  Ffete,  Chaumont 
Museum. 

c  As  in  Breton's  Cry  of  Alarm. 

d  Diaz's  Descent  of  the  Bohemians. 


254  Art  Principles 

they  are  small,  or  when  there  is  a  distinct  zigzag, 
the  illusion  is  destroyed  through  the  lengthy  opera- 
tion of  the  eye  in  comprehending  the  whole  scene. 

When  many  figures  are  moving  close  together, 
even  if  they  be  marching  to  the  same  step,  an  illu- 
sion of  movement  may  be  given  by  the  representation 
of  a  flying  figure  proceeding  in  the  same  direction. 
This  scheme  has  been  adopted  in  sculpture  with 
high  success,  as  in  the  Shaw  Memorial  at  Boston,^ 
and  the  Marseillaise  of  Rude.''  In  painting,  several 
horizontal  figures  may  be  used,  but  they  must  be 
placed  irregularly  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  formal- 
ity. Some  modern  French  artists  are  responsible 
for  effective  designs  indicating  the  arrival  of  spring 
by  an  overhead  figure  flying  above  young  people 
moving  through  flowery  fields.  "= 

A  suggestion  of  motion  may  be  obtained  by  exhibit- 
ing a  number  of  persons  engaged  in  similar  actions, 
but  shown  in  a  consecutive  series  of  stages  thereof. 
This  plan  is  admirably  worked  out  by  Watteau  in  his 
Embarkation  for  Cythera.'^  A  line  of  couples  com- 
mences at  the  right  of  the  picture,  proceeds  towards 
the  left,  and  then  descends  a  slope  to  the  place  of 
embarkation.  The  first  couple  are  sitting  and  con- 
versing, the  next  are  in  the  act  of  rising,  and  the 
third  have  just  risen  and  are  about  to  follow  the 
other  couples  already  walking,  the  whole  device 
being  most  effective.  A  similar  kind  of  illusion  is 
caused  by  Rubens  in  his  Diana  and  Nymphs  pursued 

a  By  A.  Saint-Gaudens.  ^  Arc  de  Triomphe,  Paris, 

c  See  Aman- Jean's  decorative  panels  at  the  Sorbonne. 
d  In  the  Louvre,  and  repeated  with  variations  at  Berlin. 


Illusion  of  Motion  255 

by  Satyrs.*  On  the  extreme  right  of  the  picture 
some  of  the  figures  are  stationary ;  then  come  a  few 
who  are  strugghng,  and  finally  some  running  nymphs 
and  satyrs,  a  perfect  progression  of  events  being 
suggested. 

Illusion  of  motion  is  more  easily  obtained  with 
animals  than  with  human  figures,  providing  they 
are  fairly  large,  because  of  the  greater  number  of 
their  feet  and  the  consequent  wider  variation  be- 
tween the  apparent  and  the  real  movements.  It  is 
exceedingly  difficult  to  produce  a  suggestion  of  mo- 
tion with  a  single  animal  represented  in  a  natural 
attitude,  but  the  painter  is  only  concerned  with  what 
appears  to  be  natural  or  probable,  and  not  with 
what  is  actually  so.  We  have  only  a  general  idea  of 
the  action  of  a  horse  in  nature  from  what  we  see, 
and  consequently  in  design  this  action  must  be 
generalized  irrespective  of  natural  possibilities.  Some 
artists  combine  parts  of  different  actions  as  exhibited 
in  a  series  of  photographs  in  order  to  represent  a 
moment  of  action  as  it  is  generalized  to  the  eye,  but 
this  is  only  serviceable  where  the  presumed  action  of 
the  animal  is  one  of  a  series  of  similar  events,  as  in 
walking  or  trotting.  It  would  not  answer  in  the  case 
of  an  isolated  action,  as  jumping  or  rearing,  because 
such  actions  vary  with  the  circumstances  surround- 
ing them,  as  the  height  of  the  jump  or  the  cause  of  the 
rearing.  In  these  events  therefore  the  artist  may 
exaggerate  to  a  great  extent  without  appearing  to 
present  impossible  movements.  In  fact  nearly  all 
good  pictures  of  one  or  two  horses  in  action  are  strong 
a  The  Prado,  Madrid.     See  Plate  2  7. 


256  Art  Principles 

exaggerations  of  nature,  but  this  hardly  affects  their 
cesthetic  worth  because  the  action  is  not  recognized 
as  abnormal  or  impossible.  The  finest  painting  of 
horses  in  action  known  to  us,  is  Regnault's  Auto- 
medon  with  the  Horses  of  Achilles, ^  where  the  animals 
exhibit  spirit  and  movement  far  above  experience, 
but  even  if  we  did  not  know  that  they  are  presumed 
to  be  immortal,  we  should  only  regard  the  action  as 
exceptional,  for  it  does  not  appear  to  be  impossible. 

There  is  ample  scope  for  the  presentation  of  an 
illusion  with  a  number  of  moving  animals.  All  that 
is  necessary  is  that  they  should  be  kept  fairly  well 
together  with  their  legs  in  various  moving  attitudes. 
This  illusion  is  perfectly  managed  by  many  of  the 
French  painters  of  battle  scenes  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  notably  Horace  Vernet,^  Gros,*=  Chartier,*^ 
Morot,^and  Meissonier.^  The  action  in  the  cavalry 
charges  of  Morot  and  Chartier  is  amazingly  true 
to  life.  Even  three  or  four  animals  will  suffice  for 
an  illusion,^  but  this  cannot  be  provided  with  the 
smaller  animals,  as  sheep  or  goats,  because  although 
a  series  of  progressive  actions  may  be  given  to  those 
outside  animals  in  a  flock  whose  legs  are  visible  to 
the  spectator  of  the  picture,  the  scale  to  which  they 
are  painted  is  necessarily  so  small  that  the  eye  has  an 
entirely  insufficient  range  for  operating  the  illusion. 
Where  several  horses  are  represented  as  moving  at 
considerable  speed,  it  is  necessary  that  some  of  their 

a  Boston  Museum,  U.  S.  A.     See  Plate  28. 

b  La  Smalah  at  Versailles.  ^  The  Combat  of  Nazareth. 

d  Jena,  1806,  and  Hanau,  1813. 

e  Reichsoffen.  f  1814. 

B  Rosa  Bonheur's  Ploughing  in  Nivemois. 


Illusion  of  Motion  257 

feet  should  touch  the  ground,  otherwise  the  illusion 
is  destroyed,  or  else  the  animal  may  appear  to  be 
racing  through  the  air.^  The  effect  is  not  so  dis- 
turbing when  all  the  feet  of  the  moving  animals  are 
on  the  ground,^  or  where  they  are  hidden  by  herb- 
age,^ or  where  all  the  animals  are  on  their  hind 
legs,*^  though  in  these  instances  an  illusion  is  almost 
impossible. 

In  cases  where  horses  and  men  are  crowded  to- 
gether, and  are  struggling  in  confusion,  it  is  only 
necessary  in  order  to  provide  an  illusion,  that  no 
action  should  be  entirely  separated  from  the  others. 
There  was  a  fine  example  of  this  work  in  a  lost  draw- 
ing or  painting  of  Titian,  of  Pharaoh's  Host  Over- 
whelmed in  the  Red  Sea^;  and  many  artists  of  the 
Renaissance  produced  like  illusions  in  pictures  of  the 
rape  of  the  Sabines.  Where  the  movement  is  spread 
over  a  large  area,  and  the  scale  to  which -the  animals 
are  drawn  is  comparatively  small,  the  various  groups 
engaged  must  obviously  be  connected  together  in  a 
series.  Franz  Adam  arranges  a  scheme  of  this  kind 
in  a  battle  scene,  using  running  soldiers  or  hauled 
guns  as  links  in  the  chain  .^ 

An  illusion  of  motion  is  sometimes  assisted  by 
the  title  of  the  picture.  A  remarkable  example  of 
this  is   Robert's  The  Israelites  Depart.     Although 

a  Fromentin's  Couriers  des  Ooled  Nayls,  Luxembourg;  Schreyer's 
The  Attack,  N.  Y.  Public  Library;  and  Gericault's  Epsom,  Louvre, 
b  A.  Brown's  The  Drove. 

c  Uhde's  Cavalry  Soldiers  Going  into  Action,  Muflfel  Collection. 
<i  Snyder's  Hunt,  Munich  Gallery, 
e  An  engraving  on  wood  by  A.  Andreani  is  in  existence, 
f  A  Bavarian  Regiment  before  Orleans,  Munich. 


258  Art  Principles 

individual  action  cannot  be  distinguished  owing  to 
the  scale  of  the  design,  yet  when  one  is  acquainted 
with  the  title,  the  imagination  is  instinctively  set 
to  work,  and  the  enormous  crowds  packing  the  wide 
streets  seem  to  be  streaming  in  one  direction.  Ob- 
viously for  the  title  to  have  this  effect,  the  number 
of  signs  must  be  overwhelming,  and  there  must  be 
no  possibility  of  interpreting  the  picture  in  two  ways ; 
that  is  to  say,  accessory  signs  must  be  used  to  indicate 
the  direction  in  which  the  crowd  is  moving.  ^^ 


CHAPTER   III 

ILLUSION   OF    SUSPENSION  AND   MOTION    IN   THE   AIR 

With  the  assistance  of  drapery — Of  clouds — Of  winged  figures — 
Miscellaneous  devices. 

The  representation  of  figures  suspended  in  the  air, 
or  moving  through  it,  has  never  offered  much  trouble 
to  painters,  though  necessarily  involving  an  apparent 
miracle.  The  very  slightest  pretended  physical 
assistance  suffices  for  the  illusion,  and  this  help  is 
usually  rendered  in  the  shape  of  flying  drapery, 
winged  figures,  clouds,  or  artificial  devices  based 
upon  the  contact  of  two  or  more  figures.  The  only 
difficulty  met  with  is  in  respect  of  an  upward  vertical 
movement.  Here,  wings  or  clouds  can  scarcely  be 
made  to  differentiate  between  a  rising  and  a  falling 
movement,  and  flying  drapery  is  of  little  service 
inasmuch  as  a  rush  through  the  air  would,  if  the  feat 
were  actually  performed,  cause  the  drapery  to  cling 
to  the  figure.  The  surest  remedy  for  the  disabilty  is  to 
support  the  figure  directly  by  winged  figures  placed  at 
a  considerable  angle  from  the  vertical,  but  this  plan  is 
only  rarely  adopted  by  great  masters  because  of  the 
consequent  complications  in  the  design  of  the  group. 
Since  flying  drapery  is  commonly  added  to  the  figure 
presumed  to  be  ascending,  and  seeing  that  artists 

259 


26o  Art  Principles 

almost  invariably  insist  upon  giving  their  ascending 
figures  upright  attitudes,  it  is  seldom  that  the  move- 
ment is  correctly  expressed.  Usually  the  figure 
appears  to  be  held  immovably  in  suspension,  but 
occasionall}^  owing  to  the  drapery  arrangement,  a 
descending  movement  is  indicated.^  Without  the 
assistance  of  winged  figures,  the  illusion  of  ascension 
can  only  be  given  when  the  figure  is  shown  directed 
upwards  at  an  angle  of  at  least  fifteen  or  twenty 
degrees  from  the  vertical.  As  a  rule  the  larger  the 
angle,  the  more  easy  is  the  production  of  an  illusion. 
With  a  fairly  large  angle,  and  an  appropriate  arrange- 
ment of  limbs  and  drapery,  heavy  figures  can  be 
made  to  appear  naturally  ascending,  as  in  Rubens's 
Boreas  and  Orithyia,  both  voluptuous  forms. ^ 

Only  a  very  few  of  the  first  artists  have  been  able 
to  give  an  illusion  of  movement  in  the  air  by  use  of 
drapery  alone,  the  device  adopted  by  Michelangelo 
in  the  Sistine  Chapel  frescoes  being  perhaps  the  most 
effective.  He  throws  behind  the  moving  figure  of  the 
Deity  a  large  fold  of  drapery,  which  assumes  an  oval 
or  nearly  round  shape,  the  whole  acting  as  a  concave 
framework  for  the  Deity  and  attending  Angels.*^ 
The  success  of  the  plan  arises  of  course  from  the 
apparent  resistance  to  the  air  offered  by  a  large 
and  compact  surface.  This  form  with  more  or  less 
marked  modifications  in  the  concavity  was  probably 
used  by  the  ancient  Greeks  in  their  paintings,  as  a 
nearly  similar  arrangement  is  found  in  a  sculptured 
figure  which  has  come  down  to  us,  though  in  this 

a  As  in  Murillo's  Ascension  of  Christ,  Madrid  Academy, 
b  Venice  Academy.  ^  See  Plate  24. 


Illusion  of  Suspension  261 

case  a  running  movement  is  indicated.^  It  is  also 
seen  in  some  Pompeian  frescoes,  where  it  is  applied 
to  figures  moving  through  the  air  and  on  the  ground.^ 
Raphael  adopted  the  device  occasionally,'^  but  gener- 
ally varied  it  with  excellent  effect  by  flowing  out 
from  the  waist  a  large  scarf-like  fold  to  take  a  circular 
form  above  the  head  and  shoulders  of  the  figure,*^  or 
by  causing  heavy  drapery  to  flow  out  from  the  lower 
part  of  the  body.®  No  doubt  in  the  case  of  Raphael, 
the  extraordinary  grace  of  figure,  and  the  perfect  pose 
of  the  limbs,  assist  the  illusion.  Tintoretto  and  other 
artists  of  the  Renaissance  used  an  oval  drapery  in 
a  similar  way;  while  sometimes  the  figure  is  half 
hidden  within  it,^  and  Le  Sueur  wrapped  part  of  the 
figure  in  folds  before  forming  the  oval.^  There  seems 
to  be  a  simple  virtue  in  any  oval  form  connected  with 
figures  presumed  to  be  suspended  in  the  air.  It  was 
quite  common  in  the  early  days  of  the  Renaissance 
for  the  Deity  or  Virgin  and  Child  to  be  placed  in  a 
regular  oval  framework,  sometimes  supported  by 
Angels  or  cherubs,  and  the  illusion  was  usually  suc- 
cessful.^ Rubens  by  way  of  experiment  went  a  little 
further  in  one  picture,  for  he  placed  the  Virgin  and 

a  The  Son  of  Niobe,  Uffizi  Gallery,  Florence. '' 

t>  Herculanum  et  Pompei,  vol.  iv.,  by  Roux  Am6. 

c  Ceiling  of  the  Hall  of  Heliodorus,  Vatican. 

d  Vatican  frescoes  God  vSeparating  Water  and  Earth,  and  God 
Appearing  to  Isaac. 

e  The  Creation  of  the  Sun  and  Moon. 

f  Poussin's  St.  Francis  Zavier,  Louvre. 

g  The  Virgin  appearing  to  St.  Martin. 

h  See  the  Assumption  of  Orcagna,  and  of  Luca  di  Tome;  Giunto 
Pisano's  Christ  and  the  Virgin;  and  Mainardi's  Madonna  giving 
her  Girdle  to  St.  Thomas. 


262  Art  Principles 

Child  in  an  oval  picture  frame  supported  by  cherubs.^ 
This  however  does  not  seem  so  novel  as  some  of 
Perugino's  ovals  which  are  bordered  with  the  heads 
of  cherubs.'' 

Wings  are  seldom  sufficient  to  suggest  lightness  in 
the  air,  because  they  can  scarcely  be  designed  of  the 
size  and  strength  which  we  judge  to  be  proportionate 
to  the  presumed  weight  of  the  body,  without  making 
the  form  appear  abnormal,  though  there  are  instances 
in  which  partial  success  has  been  achieved  by  using 
comparatively  small  figures  and  giving  them  un- 
usually large  wings.°  The  use  of  more  than  a  single 
pair  of  wings  is  hardly  permissible  because  of  the 
apparent  anomaly.  Actually  one  pair  is  not  less 
incomprehensible  from  an  anatomical  point  of  view 
than  several  pairs,  but  custom  has  driven  from  our 
minds  any  suggestion  of  incongruity  in  respect  of 
the  representation  of  the  common  type  of  Angel. 
Naturally  when  skilfully  arranged,  the  more  wings, 
the  stronger  the  illusion  of  flight,  and  if  a  habit  of 
giving  four  wings  to  an  Angel  were  engendered,  we 
should  perhaps  see  nothing  strange  in  them.  Even 
six  wings  have  been  given  to  Angels  without  making 
them  appear  ungraceful."* 

When  there  is  no  assistance,  as  clouds  or  flowing 
drapery,  lent  to  Angels  to  promote  the  illusion  of 
suspension,  it  is  necessary  to  give  them  an  attitude 
which  is  nearly  horizontal.     Properly  managed,  a 

a  Virgin  and  Child,  Chiesa  Nuovo,  Rome. 

b  Ascension  of  Christ,  Pervigia;  Assumption,  Florence  Academy, 
and  others. 

c  J.  H.  Witt's  Bless  the  Lord.  d  Picart's  The  Burning  Coal. 


Illusion  of  Suspension  263 

pair  of  comparatively  small  wings  may  in  this  way 
appear  to  support  a  heavy  form.^  Luini  actually 
adds  the  weight  of  the  body  of  St.  Catherine  to  three 
Angels,  flying  horizontally,  who  carry  her  to  the 
tomb^;  an  invention,  strangely  enough,  followed  by 
Kulmbach  in  Germany  at  about  the  same  time.*"  In 
both  cases  the  illusion  is  excellent.  Some  of  the 
early  Flemish  and  German  masters,  including  Van 
Eyck'^  and  Holbein,^  employed  Angels  in  scenes  with 
the  Virgin  to  hold  suspended  behind  her  seat,  large 
falls  of  brocaded  material,  and  it  is  curious  to  note 
that  the  Angels  themselves  seem  to  be  supported 
by  the  drapery.  In  order  to  assist  the  suggestion 
of  lightness,  Perugino  sometimes  arched  the  lower 
limbs  of  the  Angels,  adding  a  narrow  tape  scroll^; 
an  addition  improved  upon  by  Raphael  who  sub- 
stituted for  the  scroll  a  loosened  girdle  flying  out 
from  the  waist. ^ 

The  most  frequently  used  form  of  support  for 
figures  in  suspension  are  irregular  masses  of  clouds, 
upon  which  the  figures  sit  or  stand,  and  occasionally 
are  partly  enfolded  therein.  Sometimes  the  cloud 
bank  is  more  or  less  shaped  for  the  purpose  of  relief, 
or  for  variety  in  design.  Thus,  Raphael  makes  part 
of  the  cloud  a  perfect  footrest  for  the  Virgin,^  and 

a  Rembrandt's  The  Angel  quitting  Tobias,  Louvre, 
b  The  Brera,  Milan.  c  St.  Mary's,  Krakan. 

d  Virgin  and  Child  at  the  Fountain,  Antwerp, 
e  Virgin  and  Child,  Augsburg. 
i  The  Ascension,  Borgo  San  Sepolcro,  Perugia. 
8  Creation  of  Woman,  Castello  Gallery;  Prophets  and  Sybils, 
Perugia,  and  others. 

^  Foligna  Madonna,  Vatican. 


264  Art  Principles 

Palma  Giovane  does  a  similar  thing  for  a  figure  of 
Christ,^  but  in  this  case  the  illusion  is  hazarded  as 
the  seat  is  not  directly  indicated.  Ingres  produces 
an  excellent  illusion  by  making  the  footrest  a  small 
separate  cloud,''  which  is  a  variation  from  the  prac- 
tice of  many  painters  of  the  Renaissance,  who  used  a 
separate  cloud  for  each  personage  in  the  composition, 
or  even  with  each  foot  as  with  Carlo  Crivelli.^ 
In  a  fresco  of  the  Evangelists  at  Florence,  each  of 
them  sits  with  his  insignia  on  a  foliated  bank  of 
clouds. '^  Perugino  in  using  a  similar  plan  sometimes 
places  the  clouds  at  the  bottom  of  the  picture,  no 
part  of  the  earth  being  seen,  so  that  the  illusion  is 
considerably  enhanced.^  At  other  times  he  shows 
Angels  apparently  running  through  the  air,  with 
each  front  foot  resting  on  a  tiny  cloud,  giving  the 
impression  that  it  is  fastened  there.  ^  Durer  ex- 
tended this  plan  by  directly  attaching  a  small  cloud 
to  each  foot,  the  effect  being  somewhat  whimsical.^ 
Titian  was  unsuccessful  in  the  use  of  an  isolated 
cloud.^  In  a  Resurrection  scene  Christ  stands  on  a 
small  thin  cloud,  and  holds  a  flag-pole,  the  lower  end 
of  which  rests  upon  the  cloud.  Obviously  with  such 
a  design  no  suggestion  of  ascent  can  enter  the  mind. 
Some  artists,  as  Luca  Signorelli,'  hide  the  lower 
part  of  the  figure  behind  clouds,  but  this  method, 

a  Christ  in  Judgment,  Venice.  ^  The  Oath  of  Louis  XIII. 

c  Coronation  of  the  Virgin,  Milan. 

d  Santa  Maria.     By  an  unknown  artist  of  the  Ghirlandaio  school. 

e  Christ's  Rule. 

i  Madonna  and  Child  with  Penitents,  and  others. 

g  The  Virgin  with  a  Canary,  Berlin.  h  Urbino  Gallery. 

»  Madonna  and  Child  in  Glory,  Arezzo. 


PLATE    23 


Patricia,  by  Lydia  Emmet 
[Private  owner,  N.  Y.) 


(See  page  247) 


Illusion  of  Suspension  265 

while  indicating  suspension,  cannot  provide  an  illu- 
sion of  movement  without  an  assisting  device.  Thus 
Schonherr  shows  an  Angel  so  concealed  in  a  nearly 
horizontal  position  with  wings  fully  expanded,  the 
effect  being  good.^  When  a  figure  is  suspended  on 
clouds,  very  rarely  indeed  is  repose  emphasized  by 
placing  it  in  a  horizontal  position,  but  Poussin  once 
adopts  the  plan,^  and  Guercino  goes  so  far  as  to 
represent  a  reclining  Angel  resting  her  head  on  her 
hand  as  if  suffering  from  fatigue.''  Perfect  repose 
of  the  Deity  in  an  upright  position  on  clouds  is  pro- 
duced by  Gustave  Dore,  who  reduces  the  size  of  the 
earth,  above  which  He  stands,  to  an  insignificant 
proportion,  so  that  the  imagination  sends  it  moving 
round  below  Him.*^ 

Quite  a  number  of  artists  represent  the  suspended 
figures  standing  on  the  backs  of  cherubs  or  cupids, 
which  in  their  turn  are  supported  by  clouds,  as 
for  instance,  R.  Ghirlandaio,®  Liberale  di  Verona,^ 
and  Francesco  da  Cotignola.^  Fra  Bartolommeo 
places  a  single  foot  of  the  Deity  on  a  cherub  who 
holds  a  banderole,  the  illusion  being  excellent.*" 
Domenichino  adopts  a  most  ingenious  device  in 
St.  Paul's  Vision.  He  shows  the  Apostle  being 
carried  to  Heaven  by  winged  cherubs,  who  appear 
to  find  the  weight  considerable,  and  to  struggle 
under  it.     There  is  little  else  to  induce  the  illusion, 

a  The  Agony  in  the  Garden.  b  Adam  and  Eve. 

c  Martyrdom  of  St.  Peter,  Modena.  ^  Creation  of  the  Earth. 

e  The  Madonna  giving  her  Girdle  to  St.  Thomas,  Prato. 

i  The  Magdalene  and  Saints. 

8  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds,  Ravenna  Academy. 

^  The  Deity  with  SS.  Catherine  and  Magdalene. 


266  Art  Principles 

which  is  complete.^  A  similar  scheme  is  success- 
fully managed  in  Prud'hon's  Abduction  of  Psyche. 
Tassaert  uses  a  like  device,  but  in  addition  has  a 
cherub  supporting  each  arm  of  the  Virgin.  Palma 
Vecchio  makes  the  Virgin  stand  on  the  outstretched 
wings  of  a  cherub,  but  her  robe  blows  upwards, 
giving  her  the  appearance  of  descending  instead  of 
ascending.''  Rubens  has  three  alternatives  in  the 
use  of  cherubs.  The  figure  sits  on  clouds  with  feet 
resting  on  small  globes  sustained  by  cherubs  ""i  or 
the  cherubs  hold  the  dress  and  mantle  of  the  Virgin ; 
or  they  help  to  control  the  clouds  upon  which  she 
sits."^  In  some  of  his  pictures  of  the  Immaculate 
Conception,  Murillo  also  uses  globes,  but  places  the 
cherubs  on  them  instead  of  under.  Francia  has  a 
picture  in  which  cherubs  hold  up  clouds  bearing  the 
Virgin,®  a  device  once  used  by  Rembrandt.^  Genga 
shows  the  Deity  kneeling  upon  the  heads  of  cherubs, 
a  scheme  not  satisfactory.^  Cherubs  were  used  by 
Titian  to  hold  up  the  Virgin  and  clouds, '^  while 
Velasquez  rested  the  robes  on  clouds,  but  used  cher- 
ubs to  sustain  the  Holy  Mother.' 

The  illusion  is  usually  more  complete  when  Angels 
are  used  instead  of  cherubs  for  support,  apparently 

a  Assumption  of  the  Virgin, 
b  Assumption  of  the  Virgin,  Venice, 
c  The  Deity  and  Christ,  Weimar. 

d  Assumption  of  the  Virgin  at  Dusseldorf,  Augsburg,  Brussels, 
and  Vienna. 

e  Madonna  and  Child  in  Glory,  BerUn. 
f  The  Ascension,  Munich, 
g  The  Magdalene  and  Saints,  Milan, 
h  Assumption  of  the  Virgin,  Venice. 
i  Coronation  of  the  Virgin,  Madrid. 


Illusion  of  Suspension  267 

because  they  may  be  presumed  to  have  greater 
strength,  and  the  plan  was  adopted  by  some  of  the 
earHer  masters  of  the  Renaissance.  The  simple  design 
of  Rubens  in  resting  the  foot  of  Christ  on  the  arm 
of  a  flying  Angel  is  quite  successful.^  Fontana  places 
the  Deity  on  clouds  supported  by  Angels,^  a  method 
adopted  by  Granacci,  who  however  assists  the  illu- 
sion by  adding  two  Angels  who  are  directly  support- 
ing the  figure.*^  Peter  Cornelius  has  the  Deity  with 
His  foot  on  a  small  globe  which  is  held  in  position 
by  Angels. "^  A  fine  example  of  their  use  is  shown  by 
Gutherz.  Two  Angels  with  large  outstretched  wings 
are  bearing  the  body  of  a  woman  to  Heaven.  She 
lies  recumbent  upon  a  lengthy  hammock  formed  by 
the  robes  of  the  Angels,  the  ends  of  the  drapery 
being  gathered  up  by  the  flying  cherubs.®  The 
illusion  is  perfect.  Rembrandt  also  has  a  beautiful 
design  in  a  Resurrection  scene,  for  he  shows  the 
figure  of  Christ  as  a  shade  whose  hands  are  held  by  a 
flying  Angel  lifting  Him  to  Heaven.^  A  few  artists, 
as  Poussin  ^  and  Bouguereau,*"  use  Angels  to  carry 
the  figure  with  no  other  assisting  device,  but  if 
the  body  is  recumbent  it  is  necessary  that  the 
Angels  should  be  in  a  nearly  upright  position,  other- 
wise they  will   appear  to  be  moving  horizontally.' 

a  Ascension  of  Christ,  Vienna.  ^  Vision  of  the  Resurrection, 

c  The  Virgin  giving   her  Girdle  to  St.  Thomas,  Uffizi   Gallery, 
Florence. 

d  Let  there  be  Light. 

e  "  They  shall  bear  thee  up."  f  Munich  Gallery. 

8  Assumption  of  the  Virgin,  and  Vision  of  St.  Paul. 

^  Assumption  of  the  Virgin. 

»  Bouguereau's  Une  Ame  au  Ciel. 


268  Art  Principles 

Rubens  in  an  Ascension  uses  the  strange  method 
of  placing  an  Angel  beneath  Christ,  but  without 
touching  Him.^  The  drapery  flies  out  at  the  back, 
so  that  without  some  assistance  he  would  appear 
to  be  descending;  but  the  Angel  below,  with  her 
hands  held  up,  seems  to  correct  the  position.  Guido 
Reni  carries  the  Virgin  up  with  Angels  who  support 
her  beneath,  and  she  seems  in  fact  to  be  standing 
on  their  shoulders.^  In  one  instance  Correggio  sub- 
stitutes a  smiling  boy  for  an  Angel,  and  he  holds  up 
a  cloud  on  which  the  Mrgin  sits.*^  There  are  many 
works  where  winged  figures  hold  a  body  in  suspension, 
most  of  them  providing  excellent  illusions.  Among 
the  best  is  Lux's  Sarpedon,  where  the  bod}^  of  the 
Trojan  is  held  up  for  Jupiter  to  kiss.*^ 

Even  a  simple  banderole  or  scarf  suffices  to  indi- 
cate movement  in  the  air  if  well  arranged.  Usually 
a  flying  cherub  holds  an  end  of  the  banderole,  and 
Ferri  shows  a  wingless  putto  even,  flying  with  no 
other  assistance.^  Boucher  creates  an  illusion  by 
the  bold  device  of  connecting  two  cupids  with  a 
narrow  scarf  blown  out  into  a  semicircle^;  and  in 
another  instance  very  narrow  tape  streamers  suffice.^ 

The  use  of  thick  smoke  for  suspension  purposes  is 
nearly  always  successful,  because  volumes  of  smoke 
in  nature  necessarily  tend  to  move  upwards;  but 
obviously  this  scheme  can  only  be  arranged  when 
an  altar  is  possible.     The  plan  is  not  uncommon  in 

a  The  Academy,  Venice.         b  Assumption  of  the  Virgin,  Munich. 

c  Madonna  and  Child  with  Saints,  Parma. 

d  The  Luxembourg.  e  Da\'id  plans  a  Temple. 

f  Birth  of  Venus.  8  Altdorfer's  Nativity  at  Berlin. 


Illusion  of  Suspension  269 

pictures  relating  to  Cain  and  Abel,  and  the  Trans- 
lation of  Enoch.  In  one  of  the  latter  subject,  Hoet 
makes  part  of  the  smoke  from  an  altar  envelop  the 
surrounding  ground  so  as  to  widen  the  volume,  while 
Schnorr  achieves  the  same  end  by  curling  roimd  the 
smoke  as  it  ascends  into  the  form  of  a  large  saucer 
upon  which  the  Deity  sits,*  a  method  slightly  varied 
by  Amiconi.'' 

Where  a  number  of  figures  are  connected  together 
in  a  circular  form  in  the  air,  the  double  illusion  of 
suspension  and  motion  follows  naturally,  provided 
their  attitudes  indicate  a  circular  movement.  An 
excellent  example  of  this  is  shown  in  a  picture  by 
Botticelli,  where  Angels  dance  in  the  air  over  the 
hut  of  the  Nativity.*^  The  finest  work  of  the  kind 
in  existence  is  probably  Schwind's  Pleiads,  in  which 
the  stars  are  represented  by  a  circle  of  beautiful 
nude  women. "^  Extraordinary  activity  is  suggested 
by  the  perfect  arrangement  of  the  limbs  and  light 
flowing  drapery  used.  Bouguereau  has  a  work 
of  a  similar  kind,  The  Lost  Pleiad,  but  here  the 
dancers  are  upright,  and  the  circle  is  only  acces- 
sory to  the  title  figure.^  Watteau  is  fairly  success- 
ful in  giving  an  illusion  of  suspension  to  cupids  even 
with  a  half  circle,  though  the  invention  is  some- 
what formal.^ 

Some  of  the  devices  used  to  bring  about  an  illu- 
sion are  most  ingenious.     Thus  in  his  Bacchus  and 

a  God's  Promise  to  Abraham.  b  God  Appearing  to  Moses, 

c  National  Gallery,  London,      d  Denner  Collection.     See  Plate  25. 
e  Brooklyn  Museum,  New  York. 
f  The  Berlin  example  of  the  Embarkation  for  Cythera. 


270  Art  Principles 

Ariadne,*  Tintoretto  actually  applies  a  disability  of 
his  art  for  the  purpose.  Venus  is  shown  in  a  hori- 
zontal position  in  the  air,  placing  a  crown  of  stars 
upon  the  head  of  Ariadne.  Bacchus  is  standing  by, 
and  the  form  of  the  goddess  floats  just  at  the  back 
of  him,  the  lower  side  of  her  hip  being  on  a  level  with 
the  top  of  his  head.  Seeing  that  the  head  is  covered 
with  a  profusion  of  vine  leaves,  it  is  impossible  for 
the  artist  to  indicate,  or  the  observer  to  recognize, 
that  the  goddess  does  not  actually  touch  the  head  of 
Bacchus,  and  she  apparently  balances  herself  upon 
his  head  while  crowning  Ariadne,  the  artist  hav- 
ing been  careful  to  place  the  centre  of  gravity  of 
her  figure  over  the  apparent  point  of  contact.  A 
similar  kind  of  illusion  is  provided  by  Bume- Jones, 
whose  Angel  of  the  Annunciation  is  upright  in  mid- 
air near  the  ground,  but  her  feet  seem  to  find  support 
on  the  branches  of  a  shrub.*'  Rossetti,  in  the  same 
subject,  shows  the  Angel  with  his  feet  wrapped  in 
flames,  the  weight  being  thus  apparently  removed. 
The  design  seems  bizarre,  perhaps  because  of  the 
absence  of  an  expression  of  surprise  which  one  would 
expect  to  see  on  the  countenance  of  the  Virgin  at 
so  extraordinary  a  phenomenon.''^  Schwind  also 
uses  a  disability  of  his  art  for  an  illusion  in  his  Phan- 
tom of  the  Forest.*^  She  moves  near  the  groimd 
away  from  the  spectator  with  such  rapidity  that  her 
robe,  a  simple  rectangular  piece  of  drapery,  has 
opened  out  wide  from  the  front,  and  hides  her  figure 
from  the  shoulders  down,  so  that  from  the  point  of 

a  Ducal  Palace,  Venice.  ^  Tate  Gallery,  London. 

c  Schack  Gallery,  Munich. 


Illusion  of  Suspension  271 

view  of  the  observer  she  may,  or  may  not,  be  touch- 
ing the  ground  as  she  moves. 

How  slight  the  apparent  support  need  be,  is  indi- 
cated in  Bouguereau's  Aurora  and  TwiHght.  Each 
figure  is  represented  by  a  nude  woman  holding  a 
light  scarf,  the  first  rapidly,  and  the  second  slowly, 
skimming  the  surface  of  a  stream  of  water  with  soft 
touches  of  the  feet,  and  yet  there  is  no  anomaly 
that  strikes  the  mind.  A  still  more  daring  device  is 
used  by  Battistello,  though  quite  successfully.  He 
places  two  wingless  putti  in  the  air,  but  one  holds  up 
the  other,  and  this  action  seems  to  sustain  them  both.^ 
Another  amazing  design  is  from  the  hand  of  A.  P. 
Roll,  who  shows  a  nude  man  in  the  air  clutching 
another,  and  apparently  struggling  to  piill  him  down, 
yet  the  action  seems  perfectly  natural.^ 

a  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds,  San  Martino,  Naples, 
b  Design  for  the  Petit  Palais,  Paris. 


NOTES 

NOTE   I.      PAGE  2 

It  is  usual  and  proper  to  distinguish  three  kinds  of 
beauty  in  painting,  namely,  of  colour,  of  form,  and  of 
expression.  But  form  must  be  defined  by  tones,  and 
colour  without  form  is  meaningless :  hence  in  the  general 
consideration  of  the  painter's  art,  it  is  convenient  to 
place  form  and  colour  together  as  representing  the 
sensorial  element  of  beauty.  Nevertheless  colour  and 
form  are  not  on  the  same  plane  in  regard  to  sense  per- 
ception. Harmony  of  colour  is  distinguished  involun- 
tarily by  nerve  sensations,  but  in  the  case  of  harmony 
of  form  there  must  be  a  certain  consideration  before  its 
aesthetic  determination.  The  recognition  of  this  har- 
mony commonly  appears  to  be  instantaneous,  but  still 
it  is  delayed,  the  delay  varying  with  the  complexity  of 
the  signs,  that  is  to  say,  with  the  quality  of  the  beauty. 

NOTE   2.       PAGE    2 

Benedetto  Croce,  the  inventor  of  the  latest  serious 
aesthetic  system,  talks  of  the  "science  of  art,"  but  he 
says  ^ : 

Science — true  science,  is  a  science  of  the  spirit — Philosophy. 
Natural  sciences  spoken  of  apart  from  philosophy,  are  complexes 
of  knowledge,  arbitrarily  abstracted  and  fixed. 


^  Esthetic,  Douglas  Ainslie  Translation,  1909. 
18  273 


274  Notes 

It  is  perhaps  needless  to  say  that  Croce's  aesthetic  sys- 
tem, like  all  the  others,  collapses  on  a  breath  of  inquiry. 
On  the  purely  philosophical  side  of  it,  further  criticism 
is  unnecessary,  and  its  practical  outcome  from  the  point 
of  view  of  art  is  not  far  removed  from  the  amazing  con- 
clusions of  Hegel.  From  the  latter  philosopher  we  learn 
that  an  idol  in  the  form  of  a  stone  pillar,  or  an  animal 
set  up  by  the  primitive  races,  is  higher  art  than  a  drama 
by  Shakespeare,  or  a  portrait  by  Titian,  because  it  re- 
presents the  Idea  (Hegel's  unintelligible  abstraction — 
see  Note  5),  while  Croce  tells  us  that  "the  art  of  sav- 
ages is  not  inferior,  as  art,  to  that  of  civilized  peoples, 
provided  it  be  correlated  to  the  impressions  of  the 
savages."  Clearly  if  this  be  so,  we  are  not  stirprised 
to  learn  from  Croce  that  Aristotle  "failed  to  discern  the 
true  nature  of  the  aesthetic."  Nevertheless,  whatever 
be  the  outcome  of  Croce's  arguments,  his  system  is  at 
least  more  plausible  than  that  of  either  Hegel  or  Schopen- 
hauer, for  while  these  two  invent  highly  improbable 
abstractions  upon  which  to  base  their  systems,  Croce 
only  gives  new  functions  to  an  old  and  reasonable 
abstraction. 

NOTE  3.      PAGE  3 

The  writer  does  not  mean  to  suggest  that  these  sys- 
tems are  set  up  for  the  purpose  of  being  knocked  down : 
he  desires  only  to  indicate  surprise  that  in  new  works  deal- 
ing with  the  perception  of  beauty,  it  is  considered  neces- 
sary to  restate  the  old  aesthetic  theories  and  to  point  out 
their  drawbacks,  albeit  the  fatal  objections  to  them  are 
so  numerous  that  there  is  always  fresh  ground  available 
for  destructive  criticism.  The  best  of  the  recent  works 
on  the  subject  that  have  come  under  the  notice  of  the 
writer,  is  E.  F.  Carritt's  review  of  the  present  position 
in  respect  of  aesthetic  systems.     Though  profound,  he  is 


Notes  275 

so  comprehensive  that  he  leaves  little  or  nothing  of 
importance  for  succeeding  critics  to  say  till  the  next 
system  is  put  forward.     Yet  here  is  his  conclusion*: 

If  any  point  can  be  thought  to  have  emerged  from  the  fore- 
going considerations,  it  is  this:  that  in  the  history  of  aesthetics 
we  may  discover  a  growing  pressure  of  emphasis  upon  the  doctrine 
that  all  beauty  is  the  expression  of  what  may  be  generally  called 
emotion,  and  that  all  such  expression  is  beautiful. 

This  is  all  that  an  acute  investigator  can  draw  from  the 
sum  of  the  aesthetic  systems  advanced.  Now  what  does 
this  mean?  Let  us  turn  to  the  last  page  of  Carritt's 
book  and  find  the  object  of  the  search  after  a  satisfac- 
tory aesthetic  system.  It  is,  he  says,  "the  desire  to 
imderstand  goodness  and  beauty  and  their  relations  with 
each  other  or  with  knowledge,  as  well  as  to  practise  or 
enjoy  them. "  If  we  accept  beauty  as  the  expression  of 
emotion,  how  far  have  we  progressed  towards  the  in- 
dicated goal?  Not  a  step,  for  we  have  only  agreed  upon 
a  new  way  of  stating  an  obvious  condition  which  applies 
to  the  animal  world  as  well  as  to  human  beings.  Beyond 
this  there  is  nothing — not  a  glimpse  of  sunshine  from  all  the 
aesthetic  systems  laid  down  since  the  time  of  Baumgarten. 
More  than  twenty  years  ago  Leo  Tolstoy  pointed  out 
the  unintelligible  character  of  these  systems,  but  no 
fxu"ther  light  has  been  thrown  upon  them.  Neverthe- 
less Tolstoy's  own  interpretation  of  the  significance  of 
beauty  cannot  possibly  meet  with  general  approval. 
He  disputes  that  art  is  directly  associated  with  beauty  or 
pleastire,  and  finds  in  fact  that  what  we  call  the  beautiful 
representation  of  nature  is  not  necessarily  art,  but  that*' 

Art  is  a  human  activity,  consisting  in  this,  that  one  man  con- 
sciously, by  means  of  certain  external  signs,  hands  on  to  others 


a  The  Theory  of  Beauty,  19 14. 

b  What  is  Art?    Aylmer  Maude  Translation. 


2'-i(i  Notes 

feelings  he  has  Hved  through,  and  that  other  people  are  affected 
by  these  feeUngs,  and  also  experience  them. 

This  definition  may  mean  almost  anything,  and  par- 
ticularly it  may  imply  pure  imitation  which  Tolstoy 
condemns  as  outside  of  art.  But  it  certainly  does  not 
include  many  forms  of  what  we  call  art,  the  author  spe- 
cially condemning  for  instance,  Romeo  and  Juliet,  and 
declaring  that  while  Faust  is  beautiful,  "it  cannot  pro- 
duce a  really  artistic  impression."  The  definition  then 
seems  to  represent  little  more  than  a  quibble  over  terms. 
Tolstoy  says  that  the  beautiful  representation  of  nature 
is  not  art,  but  something  else  is.  Very  well  then,  all  we 
have  to  do  is  to  find  a  new  term  for  this  representation 
of  nature,  and  the  position  remains  as  before  except 
that  the  meaning  of  the  term  "art"  has  been  changed. 

NOTE  4.      PAGE  8 

The  evolutionary  principle  has  been  applied  to  art  by 
Herbert  Spencer  and  J.  A.  Symonds,  but  not  in  the  sense 
in  which  it  is  used  in  connection  with  the  development 
of  living  organisms.  Spencer  traces  a  progression  from 
the  simple  to  the  complex  in  the  application  of  the  arts, 
but  not  in  the  arts  themselves  ^ ;  and  Symonds  endeavours 
to  prove  that  each  separate  marked  period  of  art  shows 
a  progression  which  is  common  to  all;  that  is,  from 
immature  variations  to  a  high  type,  then  downwards 
through  a  lower  form  represented  by  romanticism  or 
elegance,  to  realism,  and  from  this  to  hybrid  forms.'^ 
Spencer's  argument  is  suggestive,  but  his  conclusions 
have  been  mostly  upset  by  archseological  discoveries 
made  since  his  great  book  was  published.  The  illus- 
trations given  by  Symonds  are  highly  illuminating,  but 

a  First  Principles. 

b  Essay  on  Evolutionary  Principles, 


^ 


o 


Notes  277 

they  are  very  far  from  postulating  a  general  law  of  evolu- 
tion operating  in  the  production  of  art. 

NOTE   5.      PAGE   8 

It  seems  necessary  to  mention  Hegel's  art  periods, 
though  one  can  only  do  so  with  a  feeling  of  regret  that 
a  man  who  achieved  a  high  reputation  as  a  philosopher 
should  have  entered  the  province  of  art  only  to  miscon- 
strue its  purpose  with  fantastic  propositions  which  have 
no  historical  or  other  apparent  foundation.  He  divides 
art  history  into  Symbolic,  Classic,  and  Romantic  periods 
respectively.  To  accomplish  this  he  invents  or  discovers 
a  new  abstraction  which  he  calls  the  Idea,  this  represent- 
ing man's  conception,  not  of  God,  but  of  His  perfection 
— His  supreme  qualities,  so  that  in  one  sense  the  Idea 
may  be  called  the  Absolute,  in  another  the  Spirit,  and 
in  another.  Truth.  These  terms  are  in  fact  interchange- 
able, and  each  may  be  a  manifestation  of  another,  or  of 
God.  This  Idea,  he  says,  being  perfect  beauty,  is  the 
basic  concept  of  art.  In  archaic  times  man  was  unable 
to  give  expression  to  this  concept,  so  he  represented  it  by 
symbols:  hence  the  earliest  art  was  Symbolic  art.  In 
the  time  of  the  Greeks  man  had  so  advanced  that  he 
was  able  to  give  higher  expression  to  the  Idea,  and  he  em- 
bodied it  in  a  perfect  human  form.  This  is  the  Classic 
period,  which  Hegel  indicates  continued  till  Christianity 
spread  abroad,  when  Classic  form,  though  perfect  as  art, 
was  found  insufficient  for  the  now  desired  still  higher 
expression  of  the  Idea.  This  expression  could  not  be 
put  into  stone,  so  other  arts  than  sculpture  were  used  for 
it,  namely,  poetry,  painting,  and  music,  which  are  placed 
together  as  Romantic  art.  This  is  as  nearly  as  possible 
a  statement  of  the  periods  of  Hegel  in  short  compass. 
It  is  impossible  to  interpret  logically  his  arguments, 


278  Notes 

nor  is  it  necessary,  for  his  conclusions  when  tested  in  the 
light  of  experience,  develop  into  inexplicable  paradoxes 
and  contradictions  which  border  on  the  ridiculous. 
Needless  to  say,  the  acceptance  of  this  division  means 
the  annihilation  of  our  ideas  of  the  meaning  of  art,  and 
the  condemnation  to  the  limbo  of  forgetfulness  of  nearly 
all  the  artists  whose  memory  is  honoured. 

The  general  interpretation  of  the  terms  "Classic  Art" 
and  "Romantic  Art"  widely  differs  from  that  of  Hegel, 
and  varies  with  the  arts.  In  the  literary  arts  the  dis- 
tinction is  obvious,  but  the  terms  are  used  to  define  both 
periods  and  classes;  in  architecture  the  Gothic  period  is 
usually  called  the  Romantic  epoch;  and  in  painting  the 
terms  have  reference  to  manner,  the  more  formal  manner 
being  called  Classic,  and  the  soft  manner.  Romantic; 
though  it  is  commonly  understood  that  Romantic  art 
is  especially  concerned  with  subjects  associated  with  the 
gentler  side  of  life.  But  there  is  no  general  agreement. 
Some  writers  assert  that  Giorgione  was  the  first  of  the 
romanticists,  others  give  the  palm  to  Watteau,  a  third 
section  to  Delacroix,  and  a  fourth  to  the  Barbizon  School. 
We  must  await  a  clear  definition  of  "Romantic  Art." 

NOTE   6.      PAGE    8 

It  may  be  reasonably  argued  that  the  want  of  develop- 
ment of  the  plastic  arts  in  England  during  the  literary 
revival,  was  largely  due  to  artificial  restrictions.  Fine 
paintings  were  ordered  out  of  the  churches  by  Elizabeth, 
and  many  were  destroyed;  while,  following  the  lead  of 
the  court,  there  was  little  or  no  encouragement  offered 
by  the  public  to  artists  except  perhaps  in  portraiture. 
Flaxman  truly  said  of  the  destruction  of  works  of  art 
in  this  period,  that  the  check  to  the  national  art  in  Eng- 
land occurred  at  a  time  which  offered  the  most  essential 
and  extraordinary  assistance  to  its  progress. 


Notes  279 

NOTE   7.      PAGE    16 

During  the  last  half  century  or  so,  various  writers  of 
repute,  including  Ruskin  and  Dean  Farrar,  have  pro- 
fessed to  find  in  the  poorer  works  of  the  Italian  painters 
of  the  fourteenth  century,  and  even  in  paintings  of 
Margaritone  and  others  of  the  previous  century,  evidence 
of  strong  religious  emotion  on  the  part  of  the  artists.  It 
is  claimed  that  their  purpose  in  giving  simple  solemn 
faces  to  their  Madonnas  and  Saints,  was  "to  tell  the 
sacred  story  in  all  its  beauty  and  simplicity";  that  they 
possessed  a  "powerful  sincerity  of  emotion";  that  they 
"delivered  the  burning  messages  of  prophecy  with  the 
stammering  lips  of  infancy,"  and  so  on.  It  is  proper  to 
say  that  there  is  nothing  to  support  this  view  of  the  early 
painters.  We  find  no  trace  of  any  suggestions  of  the 
kind  till  the  last  of  these  artists  had  been  dead  for  about 
four  hundred  years,  while  their  lives,  so  far  as  we  have 
any  record,  lend  no  warranty  to  the  statements.  The 
painters  of  the  fourteenth  century  took  their  art  seriously, 
but  piirely  as  a  craft,  and  it  was  not  uncommon  with 
them  to  combine  two  or  three  other  crafts  with  that  of 
painting.  They  designed  mostly  sacred  subjects  for  the 
simple  reason  that  the  art  patrons  of  the  day  seldom  or- 
dered anything  else.  In  their  private  lives  they  asso- 
ciated together,  were  generally  agreeable  companions, 
and  not  averse  to  an  occasional  escapade.  Moreover 
the  time  in  which  they  lived  was  notable  for  what  we 
should  call  loose  habits,  and  indeed  from  the  thirteenth 
century  to  the  end  of  the  fifteenth,  religious  observances 
and  practices  were  of  a  more  hollow  and  formal  character 
than  they  have  ever  been  since. 

The  position  occupied  by  these  painters  in  the  pro- 
gression of  art  from  the  crude  Byzantine  period  upwards, 
corresponds  with  that  of  the  Roman  painters  of  the  third 


28o  Notes 

and  fourth  centimes  in  the  progression  downwards  to 
the  Byzantine  epoch,  and  there  is  no  more  reason  for 
supposing  that  the  Italians  were  actuated  by  special 
emotions  in  their  work,  than  that  the  Romans  were  so 
moved.  In  both  cases  the  character  of  the  work,  as 
Reynolds  put  it  in  referring  to  the  Italians,  was  the  result 
of  want  of  knowledge.  The  countenances  usually  pre- 
sented by  both  Roman  and  Italian  artists  have  a  half 
sad,  half  resigned  expression,  because  this  was  the  only 
kind  of  expression  that  could  be  given  by  an  immature 
painter  whose  ideal  was  restricted  by  the  necessity  of 
eliminating  elements  which  might  indicate  happiness. 
Giotto,  Taddeo  Gaddi,  Duccio,  and  a  few  more,  were 
exceptions  in  that  their  art  was  infinitely  superior  to  the 
average  of  the  century,  but  all  from  Giotto  downwards, 
laboured  as  craftsmen  only.  No  doubt  they  often  worked 
with  enthusiasm,  and  in  this  way  their  emotions  may 
have  been  brought  into  play,  but  there  is  no  possible 
means  of  identifying  in  a  picture  the  emotions  which  an 
artist  may  have  experienced  while  he  was  painting  it. 

As  to  the  sad  expression  referred  to  in  these  Italian 
works,  it  may  be  observed  that  Edgar  A.  Poe  held  that 
the  tone  of  the  highest  manifestation  of  beauty  is  one 
of  sadness.  "Beauty  of  whatever  kind,"  he  says,  "in 
its  supreme  development  invariably  excites  the  sensitive 
soul  to  tears.  "^  But  Poe  is  clearly  mistaken  here.  It 
is  not  the  beauty  of  the  work  that  affects  the  emotions  to 
tears,  when  they  are  so  affected,  but  the  subject  of  the 
design  exhibiting  the  beauty.  A  picture  or  poem  repre- 
senting a  sad  subject  may  be  very  beautiful,  but  the 
sadness  itself  would  not  assist  the  beauty,  though  it 
might  increase  the  emotional  effect.  The  higher  forms 
of  beauty  rarely  draw  our  tears,  but  elicit  our  admiration 
without   direct  thought   of  anything  but  the  beauty. 

a  The  Philosophy  of  Composition, 


Notes  281 

Who  would  weep  when  in  front  of  the  greatest  marvels 
of  Greek  sculpture? 

NOTE    8.       PAGE    21 

It  is  commonly,  but  wrongfully,  supposed  that  Rem- 
brandt used  his  broadest  manner  in  painting  commis- 
sioned portraits.  The  number  of  his  portraits  known  to 
exist  is  about  450,  of  which  fifty-five  are  representations 
of  himself,  and  fifty-four  of  members  of  his  household,  or 
relatives.  There  are,  further,  more  than  seventy  studies 
of  old  men  and  women,  and  thirty  of  younger  men.  The 
balance  are  commissioned  portraits  or  groups.  This 
last  section  includes  none  at  all  of  his  palette  knife  pic- 
tures, and  not  more  than  two  or  three  which  are  executed 
with  his  heaviest  brushes.  Generally  his  work  broadened 
in  his  later  period,  but  up  to  the  end  of  his  life  his  more 
important  works  were  often  painted  in  a  comparatively 
fine  manner,  though  the  handling  was  less  careful  and 
close.*  The  broadest  style  of  the  artist  is  rarely  ex- 
hibited except  in  his  studies  and  family  portraits.  Fur- 
ther it  is  extremely  unlikely  that  a  palette-knife  picture 
would  have  been  accepted  in  Holland  during  Rem- 
brandt's time  as  a  serious  work  in  portraiture. 

NOTE    9.       PAGE    22 

Darwin  pointed  out  the  permanent  character  of  the 
changes  in  the  nerves,  though  he  submitted  another 
demonstration  ^ : 

That  some  physical  change  is  produced  in  the  nerve  cells  or 
nerves  which  are  habitually  used  can  hardly  be  doubted,  for 
otherwise  it  is  impossible  to  understand  how  the  tendency  to 
certain  acquired  movements  is  inherited. 


a  See  among  works  dating  after  1660,  The  Syndics  of  the  Drapers, 
Portrait  of  a  Young  Man,  Wachtmeister  Collection;  Lady  with  a  Dog, 
Colmar  Museum ;  and  Portrait  of  a  Young  Man,  late  Beit  Collection. 

b  The  Expression  of  the  Emotions  in  Man  and  A  nimals. 


282  Notes 

NOTE    10.      PAGE   23 

Reynolds  evidently  had  little  faith  in  original  genius. 
Addressing  Royal  Academy  students,  he  said*: 

You  must  have  no  dependence  on  your  own  genius.  If  you 
have  great  talents,  industry  will  improve  them;  if  you  have  but 
moderate  abilities,  industry  will  supply  the  deficiency.  Nothing 
is  denied  to  well-directed  labour;  nothing  is  to  be  obtained  without 
it.  .  .  .  I  will  venture  to  assert  that  assiduity  unabated  by 
difficulty,  and  a  disposition  eagerly  directed  to  the  object  of  its 
pursuit,  will  produce  effects  similar  to  those  which  some  call  the 
result  of  natural  powers. 

On  another  occasion  Reynolds  observed  of  Michelangelo'' : 

He  appears  not  to  have  had  the  least  conception  that  his  art 
was  to  be  acquired  by  any  other  means  than  great  labour;  and 
yet  he  of  all  men  that  ever  lived,  might  make  the  greatest  preten- 
sions to  the  efficacy  of  native  genius  and  inspiration. 

Gibbon  said  that  Reynolds  agreed  with  Dr.  Johnson 
in  denying  all  original  genius,  any  natural  propensity 
of  the  mind  to  one  art  or  science  rather  than  another.  <= 
Hogarth  also  agreed  with  Reynolds,  for  he  describes 
genius  as  "nothing  but  labour  and  diligence." 

Croce  says  that  genius  has  a  quantitative  and  not  a 
qualitative  signification,  but  he  offers  no  demonstration."^ 
Evidently  he  is  mistaken,  for  the  signification  is  both 
quantitative  and  qualitative.  It  is  true  that  what  a 
Phidias,  or  a  Raphael,  or  a  Beethoven  puts  together  is  a 
sum  of  small  beauties,  any  one  of  which  may  be  equalled 
by  another  man,  but  he  does  more  than  represent  a  num- 
ber of  beauties,  for  he  combines  these  into  a  beautiful 
whole  which  is  superior  in  quality  and  cannot  be  esti- 
mated quantitatively.  We  may  possibly  call  Darwin  a 
genius  because  of  the  large  number  of  facts  he   ascer- 

a  Reynolds's  Second  Discourse.  b  His  Fifth  Discourse, 

c  Gibbon's  Memoirs  of  my  Life  and  Writings.  ^  Esthetic. 


Notes  283 

tained,  and  the  correct  inferences  he  drew  from  them,  but 
we  particularly  apply  the  term  to  him  by  reason  of  the 
general  result  of  all  these  facts  and  inferences,  this  result 
being  qualitative  and  not  quantitative.  Croce  probably 
took  his  dictum  from  Schopenhauer,  who,  however, 
represented  degrees  of  quality  as  quantitative,^  which  is 
of  course  confusing  the  issue. 

NOTE     II.       PAGE   32 

It  is  often  observed  by  advocates  of  "new"  forms  of 
art  that  the  work  of  many  great  artists  has  been  vari- 
ously valued  at  different  periods — that  leaders  of  marked 
departures  in  art  now  honoured,  were  frequently  more  or 
less  ignored  in  their  own  time,  while  other  artists  who 
acquired  a  great  reputation  when  living,  have  been 
properly  put  into  the  background  by  succeeding  gener- 
ations. For  the  first  statement  no  solid  ground  can  be 
shown.  In  painting,  the  artists  since  the  Dark  Age 
who  can  be  said  to  have  led  departures  of  any  impor- 
tance, are  Cimabue,  Giotto,  the  Van  Eycks,  Masaccio, 
Lionardo,  Diirer,  Giorgione,  Raphael,  Michelangelo, 
Titian,  Holbein,  Claude,  Rubens,  Rembrandt,  Velasquez, 
Watteau,  Reynolds,  and  Fragonard.  All  of  these  had 
their  high  talents  recognized  and  thoroughly  appreci- 
ated in  their  lifetime.  In  sculpture  the  experience  is 
the  same,  for  there  is  no  sculptor  now  honoured  whose 
work  was  not  highly  valued  by  his  contemporaries.  So 
with  poetry,  but  before  the  invention  of  printing  and 
in  the  earlier  days  of  this  industry,  poetry  of  any  kind 
was  very  slow  in  finding  its  way  among  the  people. 
What  might  seem  nowadays  to  have  been  inappreciation 
of  certain  poets  was  really  want  of  knowledge  of  them. 

There  is  more  truth  in  the  assertion  that  many  artists 
who  had  a  high  reputation  in  their  lifetime   are   now 

*  Essay  on  "Genius." 


284  Notes 

more  or  less  disregarded,  though  it  does  not  follow  from 
this  that  there  has  been  a  reversal  of  opinion  on  the  part 
of  the  public,  or  a  variation  in  the  acuteness  of  aesthetic 
perception.  Generally  we  find  that  these  artists  very 
properly  held  the  position  they  occupied  in  their  time  and 
country,  and  if  they  do  not  now  stand  on  exalted  pedestals 
it  is  only  because  we  compare  them  with  men  of  other 
periods  and  places,  which  their  contemporary  country- 
men did  not  do,  at  least  for  the  purpose  of  establishing 
their  permanent  position  in  art.  Carlo  Maratta  for 
instance  was  celebrated  in  Italy  as  the  best  painter  of 
his  country  in  his  time,  and  even  now  we  must  so  regard 
him,  but  his  contemporaries  as  with  ourselves  did  not 
place  him  on  so  high  a  level  as  his  great  predecessors 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  some  of  the  seventeenth. 
A  special  reason  why  many  of  the  seventeenth  century 
artists  of  Italy  have  fallen  in  public  esteem  may  be  found 
in  the  fact  that  they  excelled  mostly  in  the  production 
of  sensorial  beauty,  paying  little  attention  to  intellectual 
grace,  and  the  ripening  of  general  intelligence  as  time  goes 
on  makes  us  more  and  more  sensitive  to  beauty  of  mind. 

NOTE    12.       PAGE    34 

There  have  been  many  definitions  of  " Impressionism" 
given,  but  they  vary  considerably.  Professor  Clausen 
describes  it  as  the  work  of  a  number  of  artists  whose 
interest  is  in  recording  effects  of  light,  seeking  to  express 
nature  only  and  disregarding  old  conventions.*  Mr. 
D.  S.  MacColl  says  that  an  impressionist  is  ^ 

a  painter  who,  out  of  the  completed  contacts  of  vision  constructs 
an  image  moulded  upon  his  own  interest  in  the  thing  seen,  and  not 
on  that  of  any  imaginary  schoolmaster. 


a  Royal  Academy  Lectures. 

t> Article  on   "Impressionism,"   Encyclopaedia   Britannica,    nth 
Edition. 


Notes  285 

This  definition  is  insufficient  by  itself,  but  the  writer 
makes  his  meaning  clearer  in  the  same  article  when  he 
says: 

Impressionism  is  the  art  that  surveys  the  field,  and  determines 
which  of  the  shapes  and  tones  are  of  chief  importance  to  the 
interested  eye,  and  expresses  these  and  sacrifices  the  rest. 

According  to  C.  Mauclair,  an  acknowledged  authority 
on  impressionism,  the  impressionist  holds: 

Light  becomes  the  one  subject  of  a  picture.  The  interest  of  the 
objects  on  which  it  shines  is  secondary.  Painting  thus  under- 
stood becomes  an  art  of  pure  optics,  a  seeking  for  harmonies,  a 
species  of  natural  poem,  entirely  distinct  from  expression,  style, 
drawing,  which  have  formed  the  main  endeavour  of  preced- 
ing painting.  It  is  almost  necessary  to  invent  a  new  word  for 
this  special  art,  which,  while  remaining  throughout  pictural,  ap- 
proaches music  in  the  same  degree  as  it  departs  from  literature 
or  psychology. a 

What  can  be  said  of  so  amazing  a  declaration?  The 
arts  of  painting  and  music  do  not,  and  cannot,  have  any 
connection  with  each  other.  They  are  concerned  with 
different  senses  and  different  signs,  and  by  no  stretch  of 
the  imagination  can  they  be  combined.  Seeing  that 
musical  terms  when  used  in  respect  of  painting  by  mod- 
em critics  are  almost  invariably  made  to  apply  to  colour 
harmonies,  we  may  infer  that  a  confusion  of  thought 
arises  in  the  minds  of  the  writers  from  the  similar  physical 
means  by  which  colour  and  sound  are  conveyed  to 
the  senses  concerned.  But  this  similarity  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  appreciation  of  art.  The  aesthetic  value 
of  a  work  is  determined  when  it  is  conveyed  to  the  mind, 
irrespective  of  the  means  by  which  it  is  so  conveyed. 

According  to  La  Touche  it  was  Fantin  Latour  who 
invented  modern  impressionism.     Braquemond  relates 

*  L' Impressionism,  son  histoire,  son  esthetique,  ses  mattres. 


286  Notes 

that  La  Touche  told  him  the  following  story.*  He  (La 
Touche)  was  one  day  at  the  Louvre  with  Manet,  when 
they  saw  Latour  copying  Paolo  Veronese's  Marriage  at 
Cana  in  a  novel  manner,  for  instead  of  blending  his 
colours  in  the  usual  way,  he  laid  them  on  in  small  touches 
of  separate  tones.  The  result  was  an  unexpected  bril- 
liancy ("  papillotage  imprevu")  which  amazed  but 
charmed  the  visitors.  Nevertheless  when  Manet  left 
the  Louvre  with  La  Touche,  he  appeared  anything  but 
satisfied  with  what  he  had  seen,  and  pronounced  it  hum- 
bug. But  Latour's  method  evidently  sunk  into  his  mind, 
for  a  few  days  later  he  commenced  to  use  it  himself.  Thus, 
added  La  Touche,  was  modem  impressionism  unchained. 
The  date  of  this  visit  was  not  given  by  La  Touche,  but 
1874  was  subsequently  suggested.  This  account  does  not 
fit  in  with  the  statement  of  MacColl  that  when  Monet  and 
Pissarro  were  in  London  during  the  siege  of  Paris,  the  study 
of  Turner's  pictures  gave  them  the  suggestion  of  these 
broken  patches  of  colour.^  If  this  be  true  Monet  must 
have  antedated  Manet  in  the  application  of  isolated  tones. 
D.  S.  Eaton  asserts  that  in  the  Salon  of  1867,  there  was 
exhibited  a  picture  by  Monet  which  was  entitled  Im- 
pressions,^ and  from  this  arose  the  word  "Impres- 
sionist"; but  Phythian  says  that  the  word  resulted 
from  Monet's  "Impression,  soleil  levant,"  exhibited  in 
1874  at  the  Nadar  Gallery  in  Paris  with  other  works  from 
Le  Societe  Anonyme  des  Artistes,  Peintres,  Sculpteurs, 
et  Graveurs.     Phythian  adds  *^: 

Thus,  unwittingly  led  by  one  of  the  exhibitors,  visitors  to  the 
exhibition  came  to  use  the  word  'Mmpressioniste, "  and  within  a 


a  Le  Journal  des  Arts,  1909. 

b  Article  on   "Impressionism,"  Encyclopcedia  Britannica,    nth 
edition, 
c  Handbook  of  Modern  French  Painting. 
d  Fifty  Years  of  Modern  Painting. 


Notes  287 

few  days  a  contemptuously  unfavourable  notice  of  the  exhibition 
appeared  in  Le  Charivari  under  the  heading  "Exposition  des 
Impressionistes. "  It  was  not  until  the  lapse  of  several  years  that 
the  name  came  into  general  use.  The  painters  to  whom  it  was 
applied  disowned  it  because  it  was  used  in  a  depreciatory  sense. 
Eventuallj"-  however,  unable  to  find  a  better  one,  they  adopted  it. 

Another  origin  of  Impressionism  is  given  by  Muther. 
He  says  ^ : 

The  name  "Impressionists"  dates  from  an  exhibition  in  Paris 
which  was  given  at  Nadar's  in  1871.  The  catalogue  contained 
a  great  deal  about  impressions — for  instance,  "Impression  de  mon 
pot  au  feu,"  " Impression  d'un  chat  qui  se  promene."  In  his  criti- 
cism Claretie  summed  up  the  impressions,  and  spoke  of  the  Salon 
des  Impressionistes. 

But  the  real  origin  of  impressionism  must  be  sought 
earlier  than  1871,  for  in  1865  Manet  exhibited  his 
Olympia  in  the  Salon  des  Refuses.  This  picture  did 
not  represent  what  was  understood  as  impressionism  ten 
years  later,  but  it  led  the  way  towards  the  establishment 
of  the  innovation,  in  that  it  pretended  that  healthy  ideas 
and  noble  designs  were  secondary  considerations  in  art. 
Certainly  Manet  could  not  descend  lower  than  this 
wretched  picture,  and  in  this  sense  his  subsequent  work 
was  a  distinct  advance. 

NOTE    13.       PAGE    35 

The  reason  given  by  impressionists  for  the  juxtaposi- 
tion of  pure  colours  is  that  the  natural  blend  produced 
is  more  brilliant  than  the  tone  from  the  mixed  colours 
applied,  but  it  is  pointed  out  by  Moreau-Vauthier  that 
the  contrary  is  the  case.     He  says  ^ : 

We  find  in  practice  that  the  parent  colours  do  not,  with 
material  colours,  produce  the  theoretical  binaries.     We  get  dark, 


a  History  of  Modern  Painting,  vol.  iii. 
t>  The  Technique  of  Painting,  1912. 


288  Notes 

dull  gn"eens,  oranges,  and  violets,  that  clash  with  the  parent  c»lours. 
To  make  them  harmonize  we  should  be  obliged  to  dim  these  mate- 
rial colours,  to  transform  them,  and  consequently  to  lose  them 
partly. 

NOTE   14.      PAGE  37 

Cezanne  and  Van  Gogh  are  not  usually  put  forward 
as  representative  impressionists,  but  it  is  impossible  to 
differentiate  logically  between  the  various  "isms"  of 
which  impressionism  is  the  mother,  and  to  attempt  a 
serious  argument  upon  them  would  be  apt  to  reflect  upon 
the  common  sense  of  the  reader.  The  sincere  impres- 
sionist certainly  produces  a  thing  of  beauty,  however 
ephemeral  and  lacking  in  high  character  the  beauty  may 
be,  but  most  of  the  productions  of  the  other  "isms" 
only  serve  the  purpose  of  degrading  the  artist  and  the 
art. 

NOTE   15.      PAGE   40 

This  form  of  picture  is  by  no  means  new,  though 
except  among  the  inventors  of  sprezzatura,  and  the  mod- 
ern impressionists,  it  has  always  been  executed  as  a 
rough  sketch  for  the  purpose  of  settling  harmonies  for 
serious  work.  Lomazzo  relates  that  Aurelio,  son  of 
Bemadino  Luini,  while  visiting  Titian,  asked  him  how 
he  managed  to  make  his  landscape  tones  harmonize  so 
well.  For  reply  the  great  master  showed  Aurelio  a  large 
sketch,  the  character  of  which  could  not  be  distinguished 
when  it  was  closely  inspected,  but  on  the  observer 
stepping  back,  a  landscape  appeared  "as  if  it  had  sud- 
denly been  lit  up  by  a  ray  of  the  sun."*  From  Luini 's 
surprise,  and  inasmuch  as  we  have  no  record  of  similar 
work  before  his  time,  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that 
Titian  was  the  first  great  artist  to  use  this  form  of  sketch 
for  experimental  ptu-poses. 

a  Trattato  dell'  Arte  de  la  Pittura. 


PLATE    25 


The  Pleiads,  by  M.  Schwind 


(See  page  269) 


Notes  289 

NOTE    16.       PAGE  40 

The  example  of  this  picture  at  the  Pitti  Palace  is 
specially  noted  because  it  seems  impossible  that  the 
duplicate  in  the  Uffizi  Gallery  can  be  by  Raphael,  for  it 
has  obvious  defects,  some  of  which  have  many  times 
been  pointed  out.  The  expression  is  vastly  inferior  to 
that  in  the  Pitti  portrait,  for  instead  of  a  calm,  noble, 
benign  countenance,  we  have  a  half-worried  senile  face 
which  is  anything  but  pleasant.  Raphael  was  the  last 
man  to  execute  a  portrait  of  a  Pope  without  gener- 
alizing high  character  in  the  features.  It  will  be  ob- 
served also  that  in  the  Uffizi  portrait,  the  left  hand  is 
stiff  and  cramped,  and  the  drapery  ungracefully  flow- 
ing, while  both  uprights  of  the  chair  are  actually  out  of 
drawing.  There  are  other  examples  of  the  same  picture 
in  different  museimis,  but  the  Pitti  work  is  far  above 
these  in  every  respect,  and  seems  the  only  one  which 
can  be  properly  attributed  to  the  master.  Passavant 
affirms  that  some  of  the  repetitions  of  the  work  were 
certainly  made  in  the  studio  of  Raphael  under  his  orders, 
and  thinks  that  the  duplicates  passed  for  originals  even 
in  his  time.* 

NOTE   17.      PAGE  41 

To  the  knowledge  of  the  writer,  the  only  logical  con- 
nection between  the  work  of  Rembrandt  and  impres- 
sionism that  has  been  suggested,  is  from  the  pen  of 
Professor  Baldwin  Brown,  who  remarks  ^ : 

Rembrandt  in  his  later  work  attended  to  the  pictorial  effect 
alone,  and  practically  annulled  the  objects  by  reducing  them  to 
pure  tone  and  colour.  Things  are  not  there  at  all,  but  only  the 
semblance,  or  effect,  or  impression  of  things.     Breadth  is  in  this 


a  Raphael  d'  Urbin,  vol.  ii. 

b  Article  on  "Painting,"  Encyclopedia  Britannica,  nth  edition. 
19 


290  Notes 

way  combined  with  the  most  delicate  variety,  and  a  new  form  of 
painting,  now  called  "impressionism"  has  come  into  being. 

The  professor  is  mistaken  here.  During  the  last  fifteen 
years  of  his  life,  apart  from  portraits,  a  few  studies  of 
heads,  and  some  colour  experiments  with  carcases  of 
meat,  Rembrandt  executed,  so  far  as  is  known,  about 
three  dozen  pictures,  and  in  all  of  these  he  effectually 
prevents  us  from  forming  a  general  impression  of  the 
designs  before  considering  the  more  important  details, 
by  concentrating  nearly  all  the  available  light  upon  the 
countenances  of  the  principal  personages  represented; 
while  in  the  management  of  the  features,  the  whole  pur- 
pose of  the  chiaroscuro  is  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining 
relief.  Moreover  the  pictures  are  nearly  all  groups  of 
personages  in  set  subjects,  and  there  would  be  no 
meaning  in  the  designs  if  the  objects  were  "practically 
annulled,"  for  particular  action  and  expression  are  nec- 
essary for  their  comprehension. 

As  to  Velasquez  there  is  no  evidence  tending  to  support 
the  statement  that  he  was  an  impressionist.  The  first 
authority  on  the  artist  has  definitely  pointed  out  that 
he  never  took  up  his  brushes  except  for  an  important 
and  definite  work:  "he  neither  painted  impressions  nor 
daubs."  a 

NOTE   1 8.      PAGE  49 

It  will  always  be  a  matter  of  surprise  that  so  much 
popularity  was  secured  by  the  light  sketches  of  the 
Barbizon  School,  considering  their  general  insignificance 
from  the  point  of  view  of  art,  and  the  conspicuously 
artificial  means  adopted  for  their  exploitation.  Some  of 
the  artists  of  this  school,  having  accomplished  many 
studio  works  of  merit,  acquired  the  habit  of  painting  in 

a  Velasquez,  by  De  Beruete,  1902. 


Notes  291 

the  open  air.  By  this  method  it  is  impossible  to  execute 
a  comprehensive  natural  scene,  and  the  painters  did  not 
attempt  the  task,  but  they  produced  numberless  sketchy 
works  of  local  scenes  under  particular  atmospheric  con- 
ditions. They  laboured  honestly  and  conscientiously, 
and  their  sketches  were  put  out  for  what  they  were  and 
nothing  more.  The  paintings  would  probably  have  re- 
tained their  place  as  simple  studies  had  not  some  com- 
mercial genius  conceived  the  idea  of  putting  them  into 
heavy,  gorgeous,  gilt  frames.  With  this  embellishment 
they  were  successfully  scattered  round  the  world,  mostly 
in  the  newer  portions,  much  to  the  general  astonishment. 
The  raison  d'etre  of  the  frames  puzzled  many  persons, 
though  it  was  frequently  observed  that  the  pictures  do 
not  look  well  unless  surrounded  by  ample  gold  leaf. 
Thus,  C.  J.  Holmes,  Director  of  the  London  National 
Gallery,    and   an   authority   on   impressionism,  notes  ^: 

Barbizon  pictures  are  almost  invariably  set  in  frames  with  an 
undeniably  vulgar  look.  Yet  in  such  a  rectangle  of  gilded  con- 
tortion a  Corot  or  a  Daubigny  shows  to  perfection:  place  it  in  a 
frame  of  more  reticent  design,  and  it  becomes  in  a  moment  flat, 
empty,  and  tame. 

The  purpose  of  this  frame  is  obvious.  The  eye  is  caught 
by  the  dazzling  glitter,  and  feels  immediate  relief  when 
it  rests  upon  the  quiet  grey  tone  of  the  painting,  the 
pleasurable  sensation  resulting  therefrom  being  mistaken 
for  involuntary  appreciation  of  the  beauty  of  the  work. 
As  finished  paintings  these  Barbizon  sketches  are 
novel,  but  as  studies  they  are  not,  for  similar  work  has 
been  executed  for  two  or  three  centuries,  and  particularly 
by  the  Dutch  artists  of  the  seventeenth  century.  In 
every  considerable  collection  of  drawings  such  sketches 
may  be  found,  and  there  is  scarcely  a  Barbizon  painter 

a  Notes  on  the  Science  of  Picture- Making. 


292  Notes 

whose  work  was  not  anticipated  by  a  Dutch  master. 
One  has  only  to  examine  the  drawings  in  the  pubHc  art 
institutions  of  Europe  by  De  Molyn,  Blyhooft,  Jan 
de  Bischop,  Lambert  Doomer,  Berghem,  Avercamp,  and 
others,  to  find  examples  which,  if  executed  now,  might 
easily  be  taken  for  works  by  the  Barbizon  masters. 

NOTE   19.       PAGE    52 

In  recent  times  attempts  have  been  made  to  upset  the 
dictiim  of  Aristotle  as  to  the  imitative  character  of  the 
arts  generally,  exception  being  taken  in  respect  of  music 
and  architecture.  The  first  objection  as  to  music  arose 
with  Schopenhauer,  though  he  does  not  appear  to  have 
been  quite  certain  of  his  position.  He  stated  that  while 
the  other  arts  represent  ideas,  music  does  not,  but  being 
an  art  it  must  represent  something,  and  he  suggested  that 
this  something  is  the  "Will,"  the  term  being  used  in  the 
Schopenhauer  philosophical  sense,  that  is  to  say,  imply- 
ing the  active  principle  of  the  universe,  not  being  God. 
This  means  nothing  at  all  from  the  point  of  view  of 
art,  and  cannot  even  be  seriously  considered.  The  most 
notable  essay  on  the  subject  since  Schopenhauer  is  from 
the  pen  of  Sidney  Colvin  who  places  music  and  archi- 
tecture in  a  non-imitative  group  by  themselves,  the 
former  on  the  principal  ground  that  "it  is  like  nothing 
else;  it  is  no  representation  or  similitude  of  anything 
whatever";  while  architecture,  he  says,  "appeals  to  our 
faculties  for  taking  pleasure  in  non-imitative  combin- 
ations of  stationary  masses."^  But  what  Aristotle 
meant  is  that  the  arts  are  imitative  in  character,  and  not 
that  they  necessarily  attempt  to  produce  works  of  simili- 
tude with  nature,  this  being  evident  from  the  fact  that  he 
pointed  out  that  the  higher  works  of  art  surpass  nature, 

a  Article  on  "  Fine  Arts,  "  Encyclopcedia  Britannica,  nth  Edition. 


Notes  293 

and  he  divided  poetry  and  painting  into  three  sections, 
of  which  the  first  is  better  than  Hfe,  and  the  third  inferior 
to  it. 

The  musician  in  producing  his  art  proceeds  in  precisely 
the  same  way  as  the  poet  or  painter.  He  takes  natural 
signs  and  rearranges  them  in  a  new  order,  producing  a 
combination  which  is  not  to  be  found  complete  in  nature, 
but  every  sign  therein  is  natural  and  must  necessarily 
be  so.  The  higher  the  flight  of  the  poet,  or  musician,  or 
painter,  or  sculptor,  the  farther  is  the  result  from  nature, 
but  nevertheless  the  whole  aim  of  the  musician,  as  of 
the  poet,  is  to  represent  emotional  effects  or  natural  phe- 
nomena beyond  experience  in  life,  as  the  great  sculptor 
represents  form  and  expression,  and  the  great  poet  be- 
sides these  things,  every  abstract  quality,  passion,  and 
emotional  effect,  above  this  experience;  but  he  cannot 
do  more;  he  cannot  represent  something  outside  of  na- 
ture, and  so  must  imitate,  that  is,  in  the  sense  of  repre- 
sentation. 

Darwin  notes  that  even  a  perfect  musical  scale  can  be 
found  in  nature.     He  says  * : 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  an  ape,  a  species  of  the  gibbon 
family,  produces  an  exact  octave  of  musical  sounds,  ascending  and 
descending  the  scale  by  half  tones.  From  this  fact,  and  from 
the  analogy  of  other  animals,  I  have  been  led  to  infer  that  the 
progenitors  of  man  probably  uttered  musical  tones,  and  that  con- 
sequently, when  the  voice  is  used  under  any  strong  emotion,  it 
tends  to  assume,  through  the  principle  of  association,  a  musical 
character. 

It  has  been  further  demonstrated  that  the  strength  of  the 
sensory  impressions  from  certain  sounds  is  due  to  the 
structure  of  the  ear,  and  that  generally  a  particular 
kind  of  sound  produces  a  similar  kind  of  emotional 
effect  in  animals  as  in  man.     Obviously   the   musician 

a  The  Expression  of  the  Emotions  in  Man  and  Animals. 


294  Notes 

is  powerless  to  do  more  than  widen  or  deepen  this 
efifect.  Colvin  admits  that  the  musician  sometimes 
directly  imitates,  as  when  he  produces  the  notes  of  birds 
or  the  sounds  of  natural  forces,  or  when  he  represents 
particular  emotions;  but  he  regards  the  former  instances 
as  hazardous  and  exceptional,  and  indicates  that  a 
particular  emotional  harmony  may  affect  the  hearers 
differently.  True,  but  the  hazard  of  the  first  condition 
is  the  result  of  the  limitations  of  the  artist,  and  the 
second  condition  is  the  consequence  of  the  limitations  of 
the  art.  The  effect  of  music  being  purely  sensorial  must 
vary  with  the  emotional  conditions  surrounding  the 
hearer.  The  musician  does  what  he  can,  but  he  is  unable 
to  go  so  far  as  the  poet  and  produce  an  emotional  effect 
which  will  with  certainty  be  recognized  by  every  per- 
son affected,  at  all  times,  as  having  the  same  particular 
bearing. 

Taine  separates  music  ("properly  so  called"  as  dis- 
tinguished from  dramatic  music)  and  architecture  from 
the  imitative  arts,  as  they  "combine  mathematical 
relationships  so  as  to  create  works  that  do  not  correspond 
with  real  objects."^  Obviously  the  whole  purpose  of 
dramatic  music  is  to  imitate  the  effects  of  the  passions, 
but  its  necessary  inclusion  amongst  the  imitative  arts 
upsets  the  dictum  of  Taine,  for  the  emotional  effects  of 
one  kind  of  music  only  differ  from  those  of  another  kind 
when  they  differ  at  all,  in  the  character  of  the  natural 
emotional  effects  represented. 

In  the  case  of  the  architect,  seeing  that  his  art  is 
subordinated  to  utility,  his  scheme,  his  measurements, 
and  the  character  of  his  materials,  are  largely  or  almost 
entirely  governed  by  conditions  outside  of  his  art,  and 
consequently  it  is  only  possible  for  him  to  represent 

a  On  the  Ideal  in  Art. 


Notes  295 

nature  to  a  limited  extent.  Rarely  can  he  vaguely  sug- 
gest a  natural  aisle  beneath  the  celestial  dome,  a  rock- 
walled  cave  whose  roof  soars  into  obscurity,  or  a  fairy 
grotto  backed  by  a  beetling  cliff.  Sometimes  he  may 
cause  us  to  experience  similar  effects  in  kind  to  those 
we  feel  when  we  recognize  grandeur  in  nature,  but 
usually  he  is  compelled  to  confine  his  beauty  to  harmo- 
nies produced  by  symmetrical  designs  of  straight  lines 
and  curves.  But  in  his  simplest  as  in  his  most  complex 
designs,  he  must  follow  nature  as  closely  as  possible. 
Purely  ornamental  forms  always  appear  more  beautiful 
when  the  parts  have  a  direct  mathematical  relationship 
with  each  other  than  when  they  have  not ;  that  is  to  say, 
when  the  parts  appear  to  be  naturally  related.  Thus, 
that  a  cross  appears  to  be  less  agreeable  to  the  sight 
when  the  horizontal  bar  is  below  the  centre  of  the  per- 
pendicular than  when  it  is  above  this  point,  is  due  to 
what  appears  to  be  a  want  of  balance  because  the  form 
is  unobservable  in  nature.  In  trees  the  horizontal  parts 
are  usually  above  the  middle  of  the  height  of  the  ob- 
servable trunk,  and  in  the  exceptions  nature  gives  the 
whole  tree  a  conical  or  other  shape,  the  relative  position 
of  the  horizontal  parts  being  obscured  in  the  general 
form. 

As  with  parts  of  forms,  so  with  the  forms  as  wholes. 
Other  things  being  equal,  that  design  is  the  best  where  the 
forms  are  directly  proportioned  one  with  the  other  and 
with  the  whole,  and  this  is  because  we  are  accustomed 
to  the  order  of  design  in  nature  where  everything  is 
balanced  by  means  of  direct  proportions  and  correspond- 
ing relations.  The  architect  therefore,  like  the  musician 
or  poet,  must  represent  nature  so  far  as  he  can  within  the 
limits  of  his  art,  though  his  representation  is  compara- 
tively weak  owing  to  the  artificial  restrictions  imposed 
upon  him. 


296  Notes 

NOTE  20.      PAGE  54 

The  dictum  of  Aristotle  in  reference  to  metre  in  poetry 
related  only  to  epic  and  dramatic  verse,  for  what  we 
understand  as  lyric  poetry  was  separated  by  the  Greeks 
as  song  in  which  of  course  metre  is  compulsory.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  a  single  definition  can  cover  both  epic 
poetry,  whose  beauty  lies  almost  wholly  in  the  substance, 
and  lyric  verse  where  the  beauty  rests  chiefly  in  qualities 
of  expression  and  musical  form,  and  in  which  indeed  the 
substance  may  be  altogether  negligible.  A  cursory  ex- 
amination of  Watts- Dunton's  definition  of  "Poetry," 
which  is  admittedly  the  best  put  forward  in  recent  times, 
shows  its  entire  inadequacy.  "Absolute  poetry,"  he 
says,  "is  the  concrete  and  artistic  expression  of  the  human 
mind  in  emotional  and  rhythmical  language."^  This 
would  exclude  from  the  art  some  of  the  finest  sacred 
verse,  which,  though  in  the  form  of  prose,  has  been 
recognized  as  poetry  from  time  immemorial.  Metre  is 
only  one  of  the  devices  of  the  poet  for  accomplishing  his 
end — the  presentation  of  beautiful  pictures  upon  the 
mind,  but  in  high  poetry  there  is  a  still  more  compulsory 
artifice  which  is  not  included  in  Watts-Dunton's  defini- 
tion, and  that  is  metaphor.  In  the  "form  of  words  the 
details  of  a  picture  can  only  be  dealt  with  successively, 
and  not  simultaneously,  and  without  metaphor  the 
poet  would  sometimes  be  in  the  position  of  the  painter 
who  should  present  a  dozen  different  pictures  each  con- 
taining only  one  part  of  a  composition,  and  call  upon 
the  observer  to  put  the  pieces  together  in  his  mind. 
Further  the  term  "absolute"  in  the  definition  quoted 
has  no  comprehensible  meaning  if  it  does  not  exclude 
a  good  deal  of  verse  which  is  commonly  recognized 
as   poetry,    while,   as    is    admitted    by    Watts-Dunton, 

a  Article  on  "Poetry,"  Encyclopadia  Britannica,  nth  edition. 


Notes  297 

there  is  much  accepted  lyric  verse  without  concrete 
expression. 

In  high  poetry  as  in  high  painting,  the  beauty  appeals 
both  to  the  senses  and  the  mind,  and  in  each  art  the 
quality  descends  as  the  sensorial  overbalances  the  in- 
tellectual appeal,  and  the  effect  becomes  more  ephem- 
eral. In  the  very  highest  of  the  plastic  arts,  colour  has 
little  value  except  in  assisting  definition ;  and  in  the  very 
highest  poetry  musical  form  has  only  an  emphasizing 
value,  for  the  sensorial  beauty  arising  from  form  in  the 
one  case,  and  form  and  action  in  the  other,  entirely  over- 
powers the  harmonies  of  colour  and  tone  respectively. 
But  colour  without  design  is  meaningless,  so  that  it  can- 
not be  applied  in  the  fine  arts  apart  from  design :  hence  in 
painting,  colour  presents  no  complication  in  respect  of 
definition.  On  the  other  hand  music,  with  or  without 
association  with  poetry,  is  equally  an  art  since  in  either 
case  it  imitates  the  effects  of  human  emotions  in  a 
beautiful  way.  Thus,  where  metre  is  present  poetry  is  a 
combined  art,  and  seeing  that  metre  may  not  be  present, 
a  definition  of  " Poetry"  must  cover  what  may  be  in  one 
case  a  pure,  and  in  another,  a  compound  art. 

NOTE    21.      PAGE  55 

There  seems  to  be  a  tendency  to  overestimate  the 
disparity  between  translations  of  high  poetry  and  the 
originals.  The  value  of  a  translation  depends  primarily 
upon  the  character  of  the  thing  translated,  since  it  is  the 
form  that  is  unreproducible  in  another  tongue,  and  not 
the  substance.  In  epic  and  dramatic  poetry  where  the 
form  is  of  secondary  importance,  a  good  literal  trans- 
lation may  come  much  nearer  to  the  original  than  a 
translation  of  a  lyric  where  the  form  is  usually  of  at  least 
equal  importance  with  the  substance.     We  lose  less  of 


298  Notes 

Homer  or  Sophocles  than  of  Sappho  or  Theocritus  in 
translation.  In  the  case  of  epic  poetry  the  higher  its 
character,  the  closer  to  the  original  appears  the  trans- 
lation, because  the  form  is  of  less  relative  importance. 
More  of  Dante  is  lost  than  of  Homer  in  literal  trans- 
lation, but  the  difference  narrows  when  the  new  versions 
are  in  metrical  form,  for  the  use  of  metre  in  translation  is 
necessarily  more  detrimental  as  the  substance  of  the 
original  increases  in  power,  and  this  relative  weakening  is 
emphasized  as  the  beauty  of  form  in  the  translation  is 
raised.  Pope  is  farther  from  Homer  than  Chapman,  and 
Chapman  than  the  prose  translations  of  Buckley  and 
Lang.  As  we  descend  in  the  scale  of  the  art,  so  it  be- 
comes more  diflficult  to  reproduce  the  poet  in  translation, 
and  in  most  lyric  poetry  the  beauty  seems  almost  entirely 
lost  in  another  tongue  from  the  original,  though  when 
the  substance  is  of  weight,  and  the  translator  is  himself 
a  good  poet,  he  sometimes  gives  us  a  paraphrase  with 
a  high  beauty  of  its  own.  Some  modern  poets  seem  to 
eschew  substance  altogether.  Much  of  the  verse  of 
esteemed  French  and  Belgian  poets  is  quite  meaningless 
in  literal  translation,  the  authors  relying  for  the  effects 
entirely  upon  musical  form  and  beauty  of  expression. 

NOTE  22.      PAGE  66 

Lessing  points  out  this  remarkable  picture  of  Homer 
as  emphasizing  the  beauty  of  Helen,  observing: 

What  could  produce  a  more  vivid  idea  of  beauty  than  making 
old  age  confess  that  it  is  well  worth  while  the  war  which  cost  so 
much  blood,  and  so  much  treasure  ? 

Nevertheless  the  remark  of  the  old  men  does  not  seem  to 
mean  so  much  as  the  description  of  the  sages  and  their 
reference  to  the  goddesses.  It  is  difficult  to  imagine 
several  wise  men  agreeing  that  the  sanguinary  war  of 


Notes  299 

nine  years  was  really  excusable  in  view  of  Helen's  beauty, 
and  the  statement  therefore  is  naturally  received  as  a 
permissible  overcolour.  Consequently  the  effect  of  the 
remark  would  be  discounted,  and  unlikely  to  be  sufficient 
for  the  purpose  of  the  poet.  True,  the  Greeks  seem  to 
have  been  childlike  sometimes  in  their  simplicity,  but 
there  is  no  evidence  that  they  were  so  wanting  in  a  sense 
of  proportion  as  to  accept  literally  this  opinion  of  the 
elders.  But  when  we  observe  the  senility  of  the  elders, 
and  the  physical  feebleness  which  has  apparently  ren- 
dered them  incapable  of  sensual  pleasures,  then  indeed 
we  must  marvel  at  a  beauty  which  excites  their  emo- 
tions so  powerfully  as  to  bring  the  goddesses  to  their 
minds.* 

In  discussing  the  suitableness  of  this  incident  as  a  sub- 
ject for  a  painting,  Lessing  remarks  that  the  passion 
felt  by  the  old  men  was  ' '  a  momentary  spark  which  their 
wisdom  at  once  extinguished,"  but  later  on,  referring  to 
the  possibility  that  the  veil  worn  by  Helen  when  she 
passed  through  the  streets  of  Troy  had  not  been  removed 
when  she  was  seen  by  the  elders,  he  points  out  ^ : 

When  the  elders  displayed  their  admiration  for  her,  it  must 
not  be  forgotten  that  they  were  not  seeing  her  for  the  first  time. 
Their  confession  therefore  did  not  necessarily  arise  from  the  present 
momentary  view  of  her,  for  they  had  doubtless  often  experienced 
before  the  feelings  which  they  now  for  the  first  time  acknow- 
ledged. 

This  is  very  true,  but  it  only  serves  to  deepen  the  impres- 
sion of  Helen's  beauty,  for  the  element  of  surprise  is  re- 
moved from  the  minds  of  the  elders,  the  mere  sight  of 
her,  veiled  or  unveiled,  being  sufficient  to  recall  the  pas- 
sionate thrills  previously  experienced. 

a  See  on  this  subject  Quintilian,  viii.,  4. 
b  Laocoon,  Ronnf  eldt  translation. 


3CX)  Notes 

NOTE   23.      PAGE   67 

In  nearly  all  the  instances  of  sublimity  quoted  by 
Longinus  there  is  this  particular  merit  of  brevity — the 
picture  is  thrown  upon  the  brain  immediately,  without 
pause  or  anything  whatever  to  complicate  the  beauty. 
But  the  learned  critic  directs  attention  only  to  the 
magnificent  thoughts  and  the  appropriate  use  of  them, 
without  pointing  out  the  extraordinary  condensation  of 
the  language  employed.  Apart  from  the  instance  from 
Genesis  given,  there  is  another  of  his  examples  in  which 
practically  the  whole  beauty  of  the  picture  is  produced 
by  the  rapidity  of  its  presentation.  This  is  the  excla- 
mation of  Hyperides  when  accused  of  passing  an  illegal 
decree  for  the  liberation  of  slaves — "  It  was  not  an  orator 
that  made  this  decree,  but  the  battle  of  Chasronea." 
Longinus  observes  * : 

At  the  same  time  that  he  exhibits  proof  of  his  legal  proceedings, 
he  intermixes  an  image  of  the  battle,  and  by  that  stroke  of  art 
quite  passes  the  bounds  of  mere  persuasion. 

But  it  was  rather  the  manner  in  which  the  battle  was 
introduced  than  the  fact  of  its  introduction,  that  gave 
force  to  the  argument.  If  instead  of  confining  himself  to 
a  short  brilliant  observation,  Hyperides  had  carefully 
traced  cause  and  effect  in  the  matter,  he  would  still 
have  intermixed  an  image  of  the  battle,  but  he  would 
not  then  have  produced  a  work  of  art. 

Still  finer  instances  of  the  use  of  brevity  in  expresssion 
by  the  orator  are  to  be  found  in  the  speeches  of  Demos- 
thenes. For  example  in  his  oration  On  the  Crown  he 
says:  "Man  is  not  born  to  his  parents  only,  but  to  his 
country."  A  whole  volume  on  the  meaning  and  virtue 
of  patriotism  could  not  say  more:  hence  the  sublime  art. 

a  On  the  Sublime,  xv.,  William  Smith  translation. 


Notes  301 

The  simple  statement  lights  a  torch  by  which  we  examine 
every  convulsion  in  history;  presents  a  moving  picture 
in  which  we  see  the  motives  and  aspirations  guiding  the 
patriots  of  a  hundred  generations;  sets  an  eternal  seal 
of  nobility  upon  the  love  of  man  for  his  native  country. 
And  a  few  words  suffice.  The  same  thought  might  be 
elaborated  into  a  large  volume,  but  the  art  would  fly  with 
the  brevity. 

NOTE   24.      PAGE   68 

There  are  many  translations  of  the  Ode  to  Anactoria, 
but  the  best  of  them  reflects  only  slightly  the  depth  of 
passion  in  the  original.  The  version  which  most  nearly 
represents  the  substance,  while  maintaining  the  unhalt- 
ing  flow  of  language,  is  perhaps  that  of  Ambrose  Philips 
(1675-1749),  which  runs  thus: — 

Blest  as  th'  immortal  gods  is  he, 
The  youth  who  fondly  sits  by  thee. 
And  hears,  and  sees  thee  all  the  while 
Softly  speak,  and  sweetly  smile. 

'Twas  this  deprived  my  soul  of  rest. 
And  raised  such  tumults  in  my  breast; 
For  while  I  gazed,  in  transport  tost. 
My  breath  was  gone,  my  voice  was  lost. 

My  bosom  glowed;  the  subtle  flame 
Ran  quick  through  all  my  vital  frame; 
O'er  my  dim  eyes  a  darkness  hung; 
My  ears  with  hollow  murmurs  rung. 

In  dewy  damps  my  limbs  were  chilled; 
My  blood  with  gentle  horrors  thrilled; 
My  feeble  pulse  forgot  to  play; 
I  fainted,  sunk,  and  died  away. 

The  English  reproductions  of  this  ode  in  the  Sapphic 
measure  are  not  very  successful,  the  difficulty  of  course 


302  Notes 

being  due  to  the  practical  impossibility  of  fulfilling  the 
quantitative  conditions  of  the  strophe  without  stilting 
the  flow  of  language,  or  unduly  varying  the  substance. 
But  it  has  been  shown  by  Dr.  Marion  Miller  in  his  trans- 
lation of  Sappho's  Hymn  to  Aphrodite,  which  is  much 
higher  in  substance  and  somewhat  less  condensed  in  ex- 
pression than  the  Ode  to  Anactoria,  that  with  certain  liber- 
ties in  respect  of  quantities,  a  very  beautiful  semblance 
of  the  Sapphic  measure  may  be  produced  in  English. 
His  translation  of  this  hymn  is  unquestionably  the  best 
in  our  language,  though  this  is  perhaps  partly  due  to  the 
fact  that  he  is  almost  the  only  translator  who  has  adhered 
to  the  text  in  regard  to  the  sex  of  the  loved  person.  To 
make  the  object  of  affection  a  man  seems  inappropriate 
to  the  language  employed  in  the  verse.  (It  is  proper  to 
mention  that  a  license  taken  by  Dr.  Miller  in  his  trans- 
lation— where  he  renders  the  passage  relating  to  the 
sparrows,  as  "clouding  with  their  pinions,  Earth's  wide 
dominions" — suggested  to  the  present  writer  the  some- 
what similar  picture  to  be  found  on  Page  ill.) 

NOTE  25.      PAGE  68 

The  gradual  decadence  of  the  great  period  of  Grecian 
sculpture  is  well  marked  by  the  successive  variations  of 
the  Cnidian  Aphrodite  of  Praxiteles.  The  copy  of  this 
at  the  Vatican  is  no  doubt  a  close  representation  of  the 
original,  but  later  there  was  commenced  a  long  series  of 
variations,  all  of  them  more  or  less  complicating  the  de- 
sign. First  a  pillar  was  substituted  for  the  vase,  reach- 
ing nearly  to  the  armpits,  and  the  left  forearm  rested 
upon  it,  while  drapery  fell  down  the  front,  so  that  some 
exertion  was  required  to  separate  the  figure  to  the  eye. 
Then  a  dolphin  was  substituted  for  the  pillar,  the  head  of 
the  animal  resting  on  the  ground,  and  the  body  rising  up 


PLATE    26 


St.  Margaret ,  by  Raphael 
(Louvre) 


(See  page  250) 


Notes  303 

straight  with  the  bent  tail  forming  the  support.  Then 
for  this  was  placed  a  dolphin  with  its  body  corkscrew 
shaped,  which  was  particularly  weak  as  it  tended  to 
deprive  the  figure  of  repose.  After  this,  while  the  dol- 
phin was  maintained,  a  cestus  was  sometimes  added,  and 
heavy  drapery  applied  in  various  folds.  Finally  the 
attitude  of  the  figure  was  changed,  that  of  the  Venus  de' 
Medici  being  adopted,  while  the  pillar  or  dolphin  was 
retained.  Each  alteration  necessarily  diminished  the 
beauty  of  the  figure. 

NOTE   26.      PAGE   69 

Reynolds  seems  to  have  been  disappointed  with  the 
frescoes  of  Raphael  when  he  first  saw  them,  and  this 
fact  has  been  called  in  evidence  by  some  modern  critics 
to  support  their  contention  that  the  art  of  the  great 
masters  is  really  inferior  to  that  wherein  design  is  sub- 
ordinated to  colour.  But  Reynolds  very  definitely  ad- 
mitted that  his  first  impression  was  wrong,  for  after 
studying  the  frescoes,  he  notes  ^ : 

In  a  short  time  a  new  taste  and  a  new  perception  began  to 
dawn  upon  me,  and  I  was  convinced  that  I  had  originally  formed 
a  false  opinion  of  the  perfection  of  art,  and  that  this  great  painter 
was  well  entitled  to  the  high  rank  which  he  holds  in  the  admiration 
of  the  world. 

Reynolds  was  quite  a  yoimg  man  when  he  went  to  Rome, 
and  his  appreciation  of  Raphael  increased  as  his  experi- 
ence matured.  More  than  twenty  years  after  the  visit, 
he  remarked  that  Raphael  had  "a  greater  combination  of 
the  high  qualities  of  the  art  than  any  other  man,"  ^  and 
ten  years  later  he  affirmed  that  the  Urbino  artist  stood 
foremost  among  the  first  painters.^      Reynolds  supposed 

a  Reynolds's  Italian  Note  Book. 

b  His  Fifth  Discourse  at  the  Royal  Academy. 

c  His  Twelfth  Discourse. 


304  Notes 

that  his  lack  of  appreciation  of  the  frescoes  when  he  first 
saw  them  arose  from  want  of  immediate  comprehension 
of  them:  he  was  unaccustomed  to  works  of  such  great 
power,  but  it  is  to  be  observed  that  his  inspection  was  a 
very  short  one,  and  we  may  reasonably  draw  the  conclu- 
sion that  changing  light  conditions  had  much  to  do  with 
the  effect  the  paintings  left  upon  him  at  the  time.  When 
one  enters  a  room  where  the  light  differs  materially  in 
intensity  or  quality  from  that  experienced  just  previously, 
it  is  advisable  to  rest  quietly  for  a  little  while  before 
examining  works  defined  by  colour,  in  order  that  the 
eyes  may  become  accustomed  to  the  new  light. 

NOTE    27.      PAGE  73 

That  the  judgment  of  the  public  upon  a  work  of  art  is 
final  seems  to  have  been  recognized  by  all  the  ancient 
writers  who  dealt  with  the  matter,  and  that  the  Greeks 
generally  held  this  view  is  evident  from  many  incidents, 
notably  the  reference  to  public  judgment  in  the  great 
competition  between  Phidias  and  Alcamenes.  During 
the  Renaissance  also  the  opinion  held  good,  and  it  is 
worth  noting  that  the  suggestion  sometimes  made  that 
Michelangelo  did  not  conform  to  this  view  is  unsupported 
by  evidence.     Vasari  relates  the  following  anecdote^: 

He  [Michelangelo]  went  to  see  a  work  of  sculpture  which  was 
about  to  be  sent  out  because  it  was  finished,  and  the  sculptor  was 
taking  much  trouble  to  arrange  the  lights  from  the  windows  to  the 
end  that  it  might  show  up  well;  whereupon  Michelangelo  said  to 
him:  "  Do  not  trouble  yourself,  the  important  thing  will  be  the  light 
of  the  piazza";  meaning  to  infer  that  when  works  are  in  public 
places,  the  people  must  judge  whether  they  are  good  or  bad. 

Lionardo  went  so  far  as  to  advise  artists  to  hear  any 
man's  opinion  on  his  work,  "for,"  he  said,  "we  know 
very  well  that  though  a  man  may  not  be  a  painter,  he 

a  Life  of  Michelangelo  Buonarotti,  De  Vere  translation. 


Notes  305 

has  a  true  conception  of  the  form  of  another  man."^ 
It  is  a  common  misconception  with  the  general  pubHc, 
though  not  among  serious  artists,  that  by  reason  of  their 
profession  artists  are  better  judges  of  works  of  art  than 
other  men.  Obviously  the  recognition  of  beauty  in  art 
is  apart  altogether  from  the  means  by  which  it  is  created, 
and  subject  to  the  exceptions  noted  elsewhere,  all  men 
are  alike  able  to  appreciate  high  beauty.  Winckelmann 
even  advised  his  readers  against  the  judgment  of  artists 
on  the  ground  that  they  generally  preferred  what  is 
difficult  to  what  is  beautiful,^  but  experience  with  the 
great  art  bodies  in  Europe  who  hold  exhibitions  does  not 
support  this  view.  It  is  only  the  weaker  artists  who  are 
liable  to  be  prejudiced  in  such  matters,  and  when  the 
judges  are  of  high  attainments  in  art,  they  almost 
invariably  make  the  same  choice  in  competitions  that 
would  be  made  if  general  opinion  were  solicited.  But 
although  artists  cannot  be  better  judges  of  high-class 
works  of  art  (as  beautiful  things)  than  other  men  of  equal 
intelligence,  their  training  usually  enables  them  to 
distinguish  obscure  forms  of  beauty  which  would  be 
imrecognized  by  the  general  public,  and  in  matters  of 
colour  to  differentiate  between  ephemeral  and  more  or 
less  permanent  harmonies.  Hence  while  the  public 
interests  would  not  suffer  from  the  introduction  of 
the  lay  element  in  judging  high  class  sculpture  and 
painting,  it  is  obvious  that  the  consideration  of  works 
where  the  lower  forms  of  beauty  only  are  produced, 
as  in  formal  decoration,  should  be  confined  to  the 
profession. 

In  music  alone  of  the  arts,  for  reasons  already  given, 
special  cultivation  is  necessary  for  the  judgment  of  the 
higher  forms  of  beauty. 

a  McCurdy's  Lionardo  da  Vinci's  Note  Books. 
b  History  of  Ancient  Art,  Part  V.,  6. 


3o6  Notes 

NOTE   28.      PAGE   74 

It  is  commonly  supposed  that  the  vast  multitude  of 
men  and  women — the  toilers  in  the  fields  and  factories, 
and  their  families,  do  not  appreciate  great  works  of  art; 
that  rarely  they  take  an  interest  in  any  kind  of  art,  and 
then  only  in  simple  representations  of  everyday  inci- 
dents. This  is  so  apparently,  but  it  is  not  strictly  true. 
The  great  bulk  of  working  people  grow  up  amidst  sur- 
roundings where  they  do  not  have  an  opportunity  of 
seeing  good  works  of  art.  They  toil  from  morn  to  eve 
during  their  whole  life:  their  imaginations  are  almost 
entirely  confined  to  their  means  of  livelihood,  their 
daily  routine  of  labour,  and  their  household  duties.  A 
"mute  inglorious  Milton"  remains  mute  because  he 
wants  the  knowledge  and  experience  around  which  his 
fancy  may  roam,  and  a  potential  Raphael  dies  in  ob- 
scurity from  the  enforced  rigidity  of  his  imagination. 
But  even  so,  notwithstanding  that  the  nervous  activities 
and  the  imaginations  of  the  poorer  workers  remain  un- 
developed, they  are  still  subservient  to  the  irrevocable 
laws  of  nature.  Their  faculties  may  be  little  changed 
from  childhood  in  respect  of  matters  appertaining  to  the 
higher  senses,  but  they  still  exist.  So  it  comes  about  that 
in  all  times  since  art  has  been  practised,  the  paintings 
and  sculptures  of  the  greater  masters  have  been  well 
appreciated  by  the  multitude  when  they  could  come 
into  contact  with  them.  In  modern  times  great  works 
of  art  are  seldom  available  to  the  masses  except  in  pub- 
lic galleries  where  their  sense  perception  and  minds  are 
quickly  confused  and  fatigued — in  fact  rendered  incapa- 
ble of  legitimate  use,  but  the  trend  of  popular  opinion 
is  very  decidedly  settled  by  the  experience  of  those 
business  houses  which  undertake  the  reproduction  of  im- 
portant works.     There  are  many  times  the  demand  for 


Notes  307 

prints  and  cards  of  pictures  belonging  to  the  higher  forms 
of  art,  as  for  instance,  sacred  and  historical  subjects,  and 
portraits,  than  for  interiors  and  landscapes,  and  so 
incessant  is  this  demand  for  the  better  works,  that  a 
painter  desiring  to  copy  one  of  the  great  Raphael  or 
Correggio  Madonnas  at  Florence  for  reproduction,  will 
usually  have  to  wait  three  or  four  years  after  entering 
his  name,  before  his  turn  comes  to  set  up  his  easel.  It 
is  rather  the  want  of  intelligent  contact  with  them,  than 
indifference  to  them,  that  is  due  the  apparent  lack  of 
interest  in  great  works  of  art  on  the  part  of  the  labouring 
classes. 

There  is  a  deal  of  truth  in  the  incisive  remarks  of  Leo 
Tolstoy  when  dealing  with  this  question.     He  says  * : 

Art  cannot  be  incomprehensible  to  the  great  masses  only  be- 
cause it  is  very  good,  as  artists  of  our  day  are  fond  of  telling  us. 
Rather  we  are  bound  to  conclude  that  this  art  is  unintelligible 
because  it  is  very  bad  art,  or  even  is  not  art  at  all.  So  that  the 
favourite  argument  (naively  accepted  by  the  cultured  crowd), 
that  in  order  to  feel  art  one  has  first  to  understand  it  (which  really 
means  to  habituate  oneself  to  it),  is  the  truest  indication  that 
what  we  are  asked  to  understand  by  such  a  method,  is  either  very 
bad  art,  exclusive  art,  or  is  not  art  at  all. 

One  may  observe  however  that,  as  a  rule,  it  is  only  infe- 
rior artists  who  complain  of  the  want  of  public  apprecia- 
tion of  great  works  of  art. 

NOTE   29.      PAGE   78 

According  to  Lessing  and  Watts-Dunton,  what  the 
former  calls  the  dazzling  antithesis  of  Simonides — 
"Poetry  is  speaking  painting,  and  painting  dumb  poetry" 
— has  had  a  wide  and  deleterious  effect  upon  art  criticism. 
Lessing,  who  wrote  Laocoon  about  1761,  said  in  his  pre- 
face in  reference  to  this  saying : 

a  What  is  Art?    Aylmer  Maude  translation,  1904. 


3o8  Notes 

It  was  one  of  those  ideas  held  by  Simonides,  the  truth  of  which 
is  so  obvious  that  one  feels  compelled  to  overlook  the  indistinct- 
ness and  falsehood  which  accompany  it.  .  .  .  But  of  late  many 
critics,  just  as  though  no  difference  existed,  have  drawn  the  crudest 
conclusions  one  can  imagine  from  this  harmony  of  painting  and 
poetry. 

Watts-Dunton,  writing  a  few  years  ago,  added  to  this  *: 

It  [the  saying  of  Simonides]  appears  to  have  had  upon  modem 
criticism  as  much  influence  since  the  publication  of  Lessing's 
Laocoon  as  it  had  before. 

Lessing  points  out  that  the  Greeks  confined  the  saying 
to  the  effect  produced  by  the  two  arts,  and  (evidently 
referring  to  Aristotle)  did  not  forget  to  inculcate  that 
these  arts  differed  from  each  other  in  the  things  imitated 
and  the  manner  of  imitation. 

Since  the  business  of  both  poetry  and  painting  is  to 
throw  pictures  on  the  mind,  the  declaration  of  Simonides 
must  be  accepted,  but  it  has  no  particular  meaning  as 
applied  either  to  criticism  or  the  practice  of  the  arts.  It 
is  merely  a  fact  of  common  knowledge  put  into  the  form 
of  a  misleading  jeu  d'esprit,  though  one  has  a  natural 
reluctance  in  so  describing  a  time-honoured  saying. 
There  is  room  for  doubt  whether  it  really  had  the  effect 
upon  criticism  that  is  alleged.  Annibale  Carracci  varied 
it  slightly  into  a  better  form  with  "Poets  paint  with 
words,  and  painters  speak  with  the  pencil,"  and  it  was 
certainly  as  well  known  in  his  time  as  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  yet  we  find  no  particular  evidence  of  weak  art 
criticism  either  in  the  sixteenth  or  seventeenth  century. 
Moreover  allegorical  painting  was  not  less  common  in 
these  centuries  than  in  the  century  following;  and  while 
there  was  unquestionably  a  spurt  of  descriptive  poetry 
in  the  eighteenth,  it  is  difficult  to  trace  a  connection  be- 
tween this  phenomenon  and  general  criticism  based  upon 

a  Article  on  "Poetry,"  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  nth  edition. 


Notes  309 

the  dictum  of  Simonides.     In  regard  to  later  times,  the 
statement  of  Watts-Dunton  wants  demonstration. 

NOTE  30.      PAGE  79 

A  few  distinguished  poets  have  attempted  to  portray 
beauty  of  form  by  description  of  features,  but  they  have 
all  been  signally  unsuccessful.  The  best  known  essay 
of  the  kind  is  Ariosto's  portrait  of  Araminta,  where  he 
closely  describes  all  details  of  her  features  and  form,  using 
forty  lines  for  the  purpose;  but  put  together  the  pieces 
as  one  will,  it  is  quite  impossible  to  gain  from  them  an 
idea  of  the  beauty  of  her  countenance.*  This  is  pointed 
out  by  Lessing.  The  very  length  of  the  catalogue  is 
apt  to  kill  the  beauty  as  one  endeavours  to  dovetail  the 
separate  elements.  Perhaps  the  lines  of  Cornelius  Gallus 
to  Lydia  form  the  most  perfect  poetical  delineation  of  a 
beautiful  face  known  to  us,  but  as  will  be  seen  from  the 
translation  below,  they  are  quite  insufficient  to  enable  us 
to  picture  the  beauty  of  the  combined  features  on  our 
minds.'' 

Lydia!  girl  of  prettiest  mien. 
And  fairest  skin,  that  e'er  were  seen: 
Lilies,  cream,  thy  cheeks  disclose; 
The  ruddy  and  the  milky  rose; 
Smooth  thy  limbs  as  ivory  shine. 
Burnished  from  the  Indie  mine. 
Oh,  sweet  girl!  those  ringlets  spread 
Long  and  loose,  from  all  thy  head; 
Glistening  like  gold  in  yellow  light 
O'er  thy  falling  shoulders  white. 
Show,  sweet  girl!  thy  starry  eyes, 
And  black  brows  that  arching  rise: 
Show,  sweet  girl !  thy  rose-bloom  cheeks, 
Which  Tyre's  Vermillion  scarlet  streaks: 
Drop  those  pouting  lips  to  mine. 
Those  ripe,  those  coral  lips  of  thine. 

a  Orlando  Furioso,  C.  VIL  b  C.  A.  Elton  translation. 


310  Notes 

NOTE  31.      PAGE  80 

If  there  be  one  example  of  descriptive  poetry  relating 
to  landscape  which  throws  upon  the  mind  a  complete 
natural  scene  during  the  process  of  reading,  it  is  the 
beautiful  chant  of  the  Chorus  in  CEdipus  Coloneus. 
The  perfection  of  form  and  majestic  diction  of  this  poetry 
are  remarkable,  but  the  successful  presentation  of  the 
picture  on  the  mind  is  largely  due  to  the  simple  and  direct 
language  used,  and  the  astonishing  brevity  with  which 
the  many  features  of  the  scene  are  described.  Green 
dells,  fields,  plains,  groves,  rocks,  flowers,  fruit,  and  rush- 
ing waters,  are  all  brought  in,  and  the  few  lines  used  do  not 
prevent  the  introduction  of  the  Muses,  the  jovial  Bacchus 
with  the  nursing  nymphs,  and  radiant  Aphrodite.  All 
modern  poetry  descriptive  of  landscape  entirely  fails  in 
presenting  a  comprehensive  view.  It  is  too  discursive — 
over  descriptive,  to  permit  of  the  mind  collecting  the 
details  together  as  one  whole.  Here  is  the  best  prose 
version  of  the  lines  of  Sophocles  ^ : 

Thou  hast  come,  O  stranger,  to  the  seats  of  this  land,  renowned 
for  the  steed;  to  seats  the  fairest  on  earth,  the  chalky  Colonus; 
where  the  vocal  nightingale,  chief  abounding,  trills  her  plaintive 
note  in  the  green  dells,  tenanting  the  dark-hued  ivy,  and  the 
leafy  grove  of  the  god,  untrodden,  teeming  with  fruits,  impervious 
to  the  sun,  and  unshaken  by  the  winds  of  every  storm;  where 
Bacchus  the  reveller  ever  roams  attending  his  divine  nurses. 
And  ever  day  by  day  the  narcissus,  with  its  beauteous  clusters, 
bursts  into  bloom  by  heaven's  dew,  the  ancient  coronet  of  the 
mighty  goddesses,  and  the  saffron  with  golden  ray;  nor  do  the 
sleepless  founts  of  Cephisus  that  wander  through  the  fields  fail, 
but  every  day  it  rashes  o'er  the  plains  with  its  limpid  wave, 
fertilizing  the  bosom  of  the  earth;  nor  have  the  choirs  of  the 
Muses  loathed  this  clime;  nor  Aphrodite  too,  of  the  golden  reign. 


a  Oxford  translation. 


Notes  311 

NOTE  32.      PAGE   81 

It  is  perhaps  necessary  to  remind  some  readers  that 
the  term  "invention"  is  used  in  two  senses  in  art,  refer- 
ring to  the  original  idea  or  scheme,  or  to  the  preparation 
of  the  design  embodying  the  idea.  In  poetry  and  fiction 
the  term  has  the  former  significance;  in  painting  and 
sculpture  the  latter.  The  restriction  in  the  use  of  the 
term  in  the  last  named  arts  is  compulsory.  (See  Chap. 
III.,  and  Note  33.) 

NOTE  33.      PAGE  81 

Apparently  Lessing  did  not  observe  that  inasmuch  as 
the  painter  cannot  present  the  beginning  and  end  of  an 
incident,  he  must  necessarily  take  his  moment  of  action 
from  the  literary  arts  or  from  nature.  The  critic  notices 
that  the  painter  does  not  invent  the  action  he  depicts, 
but  states  that  this  is  due  to  his  indifference  towards 
invention,  developed  by  the  natural  readiness  of  the 
public  to  dispense  with  the  merit  of  invention  in  his 
case.  That  is  to  say,  the  public  expects  the  painter  to 
take  his  idea  from  the  poet  or  from  nature,  and  looks  to 
him  only  for  correct  design  and  execution:  hence  the 
painter  is  under  no  necessity  to  invent  his  own  scheme. 

It  is  curious  that  a  reason  of  this  kind  for  the  practice 
of  the  painter  should  be  put  forward  by  so  keen  a  critic 
as  Lessing,  but  it  is  not  altogether  surprising  when  we 
remember  the  discussion  as  to  whether  Virgil  drew  his 
representation  of  the  Laocoon  incident  from  the  cele- 
brated sculptured  group,  or  the  sculptors  adopted  the 
device  of  the  poet.  Lessing  definitely  settled  the  point 
in  favour  of  the  poet  as  the  author  of  the  design,  and  since 
his  time  this  decision  has  been  confirmed  over  and  over 
again  by  practical  evidence.  But  the  conclusion  of 
Lessing  seems  obvious  in  the  absence  of  any  such  evi- 


312  Notes 

dence.  As  we  must  exclude  the  possibility  of  both  poet 
and  sculptors  taking  the  design  from  the  same  original 
source,  it  is  clear  that  the  poet  could  only  have  imitated 
the  sculptors  on  the  supposition  that  they  had  so  widely 
varied  the  legend  as  to  necessitate  a  new  beginning  and 
end  of  the  story,  these  being  provided  by  the  poet. 
Consideration  of  such  a  series  of  events  is  not  permissible, 
as  it  would  reflect  upon  the  common  sense  of  the  sculp- 
tors, and  actually  degrade  the  poet. 

Consequent  upon  the  inability  of  the  painter  to  origi- 
nate a  scheme  for  a  picture,  the  famous  proposition  of 
Lessing  as  to  the  relative  importance  of  invention  and 
execution  with  the  poet  and  painter,  must  fall  to  the 
ground.  The  critic  states  that  our  admiration  of  Homer 
would  be  less  if  we  knew  that  he  took  certain  of  his  work 
from  pictures,  and  asks  ^ : 

How  does  it  happen  that  we  withdraw  none  of  our  esteem  from 
the  painter  when  he  does  no  more  than  express  the  words  of  the 
poem  in  forms  and  colours  ? 

He  suggests  as  an  answer  to  this : 

With  the  painter,  execution  appears  to  be  more  diiBcult  than 
invention:  with  the  poet  on  the  other  hand  the  case  seems  to  be 
reversed,  and  his  execution  seems  to  be  an  easier  achievement 
than  the  invention. 

The  word  "invention"  is  to  be  taken  here  in  the  sense  of 
plot  or  fable,  and  not  as  the  details  of  design  invented 
by  the  painter  for  the  purpose  of  representing  the  action 
described  by  the  poet.  The  premisses  of  Lessing's  ar- 
gimient  therefore  will  not  stand,  for  the  painter  cannot 
originate  a  fable  by  means  of  a  picture.  And  sequential 
to  this  of  course,  the  painter  can  be  of  no  service  to  the 
poet.     Homer  could  not  draw  an  original  scheme  from 

a  Laocoon,  Phillimore  translation. 


Notes  313 

a  painting.     Nor  may  the  poet  take  a  detail  from  the 

painter,  for  this  has  already  been  borrowed.  A  poet  may 
vary  a  detail  in  a  legend  because  he  can  make  the  suc- 
cessive parts  of  his  relation  fit  in  with  the  variation,  but 
the  painter  can  only  deal  with  a  single  moment  of  action, 
and  if  this  does  not  correspond  with  an  accepted  legend, 
then  his  design  appears  to  be  untrue. 

It  may  be  said  in  regard  to  painting,  that  the  relative 
difficulty  of  the  invention  (the  work  of  gathering  and 
arranging  the  signs)  and  the  execution,  varies  with  the 
character  of  the  art.  In  the  higher  forms,  as  sacred  and 
historical  work,  the  invention  is  the  more  difficult;  in 
ordinary  scenes  of  life  and  labour  the  trouble  involved 
in  invention  would  about  equal  that  in  execution;  while 
in  the  lower  forms,  as  landscape  and  still-life,  the  execu- 
tion is  obviously  the  more  difficult.  In  the  case  of  the 
poet,  the  idea  or  fable  is  the  hardest  part  of  his  work, 
but  the  relative  difficulty  of  the  arrangement  of  the 
parts,  and  the  execution,  would  naturally  depend  upon 
the  general  character  of  the  composition,  and  the  form 
of  the  poem. 

NOTE  34.      PAGE  82 

The  works  here  referred  to  are  those  designed  for  the 

purpose  of  achieving  a  political  or  social  aim,  or  con- 
veying instruction  or  moral  lessons.  There  are  many 
examples  of  good  art  where  advocacy  of  a  social  or  ad- 
ministrative reform  is  presented  by  way  of  incident  or 
accessory,  though  the  art  itself  is  never,  and  cannot  be, 
assisted  thereby.  "Didactic  Art,"  if  such  a  term  may 
be  appropriately  used,  is  practically  a  thing  of  the  past, 
but  judging  from  certain  conventions  the  opinion  seems 
to  be  rather  widely  held  that  art  should  point  a  moral 
when  possible,  and  an  opinion  of  Aristotle  is  not  infre- 


314  Notes 

quently  called  in  to  support  this  view.  But  when  Aris- 
totle connected  morals  with  art,  he  evidently  did  not 
mean  to  suggest  that  art  should  have  a  moral  purpose, 
but  that  it  should  have  a  moral  tendency  in  not  being 
morally  harmful,  for  art  which  is  not  morally  harmful 
must  necessarily  be  morally  beneficial.  The  general 
connection  of  the  good  with  the  beautiful  in  ancient 
Greece  seems  to  have  merely  implied  that  what  is  good 
is  beautiful,  and  what  is  beautiful  is  good,  or  should  be 
good,  and  not  that  goodness  is  a  manifestation  of  beauty, 
or  beauty  of  goodness.  It  was  admitted  that  the  two 
things  may  not  coincide. 

NOTE  35.      PAGE  85 

That  landscape  painting  may  be  of  considerable  value 
in  assisting  scientific  exploration  is  instanced  by  an 
anecdote  related  to  the  writer  by  a  geological  friend. 
Professor  Jack,  formerly  Government  Geologist  of 
Queensland,  while  travelling  in  that  colony,  having  put 
up  one  night  at  the  house  of  a  small  squatter,  noticed  on 
the  walls  of  the  interior,  a  number  of  colour  drawings 
which  had  been  painted  by  a  son  of  the  settler  from  views 
in  the  neighbouring  hills.  One  of  these  drawings  showed 
a  reddish-brown  tint  running  down  the  slope  of  a  grey 
and  nearly  barren  hill.  This  caught  the  eye  of  the  pro- 
fessor who  asked  the  artist  if  the  colours  roughly  repre- 
sented the  natural  conditions,  and  receiving  an  affirmative 
reply,  recommended  the  squatter  to  prospect  the  ground 
for  minerals.  This  was  done  with  the  result  that 
profitable  copper  deposits  were  found.  It  seems  that 
in  Australia  many  of  the  best  mineral  veins  are  capped 
with  iron,  and  run  through  schistose  rocks  traversed  by 
dioritic  dykes.  Professor  Jack  was  well  aware  that  the 
hills  in  the  district  were  formed  of  these  rocks  and  dykes, 


Notes  315 

and  as  the  reddish-brown  streak  indicated  iron  oxide, 
it  occurred  to  him  that  the  iron  might  be  the  cap  of  a 
lode  holding  valuable  minerals.* 

NOTE   36.      PAGE  87 

Remarkable  evidence  of  the  universality  of  ideals,  is 
afforded  by  the  galaxy  of  French  sculptors  who  appeared 
in  the  thirteenth  century.  They  could  have  had  no 
teachers  beyond  those  responsible  for  the  stiff  and  formal 
works  characterizing  the  merging  of  Norman  with  Gothic 
art ;  they  could  have  seen  few  of  the  fragments  of  ancient 
sculpture;  and  yet  they  left  behind  them  monuments 
which  rival  in  noble  beauty  much  of  the  work  produced 
in  the  greatest  art  period.  How  their  art  grew,  and  how 
it  withered;  how  such  a  brilliant  bloom  in  the  life  of  a 
nation  should  so  quickly  fade,  needs  too  detailed  an 
argument  to  be  ventured  upon  tiere,  if  indeed  a  properly 
reasoned  explanation  can  be  given  at  all;  but  the  flower 
remains,  as  great  a  pride  to  mankind  as  it  is  a  glory  to 
France:  remains,  though  sadly  drooping,  for  the  petals 
of  Rheims  are  gone. 

Now  these  Frenchmen  were  in  much  the  same  position 
as  the  early  Greeks.  They  were  confronted  with  the 
task  of  making  images  of  their  objects  of  worship  for 
great  temples.  They  had  no  more  real  knowledge  of  the 
Personality  of  Christ,  the  Virgin,  and  most  of  the  Saints 
than  had  the  Greeks  of  the  Homeric  gods  and  legendary 
heroes,  and  like  the  Grecian  sculptors  they  fully  believed 
in  the  spiritual  personages  and  religious  events  with 
which  they  dealt.  The  Grecian  and  French  artists 
therefore  started  from  the  same  line  with  similar  general 
ideals,  for  the  ancient  workers  took  no  heed  of  Homer 
and  Hesiod  in  respect  of  the  failings  of  their  gods;  and 

a  This  note  is  from  The  Position  of  Landscape  in  Art,  by  the  present 
author. 


3i6  Notes 

they  both  had  only  pure  formalities  in  sculpture  behind 
them.  And  what  was  the  result  ?  The  ideal  divine  head 
of  the  Christian  Frenchman  is  much  the  same  as  that 
of  the  Greeks  in  regard  to  form,  and  only  varies  in  ex- 
pression with  the  character  of  the  respective  religious 
conceptions. 

The  French  sculptors  did  not  reach  the  sublime  height 
of  the  Phidian  school,  nor  did  they  attempt  the  more 
hviman  beauty  typified  by  the  giants  of  the  fourth 
century  b  .c. ;  but  apart  from  these,  and  leaving  aside  con- 
siderations of  the  nude  with  which  they  were  little  con- 
cerned, they  climbed  to  the  highest  level  of  the  latter  end 
of  the  fourth  century  and  the  beginning  of  the  third — the 
level  attained  by  those  Grecian  sculptors  who  more  or 
less  idealized  portrait  heads  by  adding  Phidian  traits. 
And  it  would  appear  that  in  reaching  towards  their  goal 
they  followed  the  same  line  of  thought  as  the  Greeks,  and 
arrived  at  similar  conclusions  in  respect  to  every  detail 
of  the  head  and  pose  of  the  figure.  As  a  rule  they  gave 
to  the  faces  of  Christ  and  the  Saints  a  large  facial  angle, 
set  the  eyes  in  deeply  and  the  ears  close  to  the  head, 
and  generally  worked  on  parallel  lines  with  the  principal 
sculptors  of  Peloponesia  living  sixteen  hundred  years 
before  their  time.  It  is  perhaps  natural  that  they  should 
make  similar  variations  in  the  proportions  of  the  figures 
to  provide  for  the  different  levels  from  which  they  were 
to  be  seen,  but  it  is  curious  that  they  should  adopt  the 
practice  followed  by  the  Greeks  in  the  representation  of 
children  in  arms,  by  minimizing  to  the  last  degree  the 
figure  of  the  Infant  Christ  in  the  arms  of  the  Madonna. 
They  could  not  have  more  closely  imitated  the  Greeks 
in  this  respect  had  they  had  Grecian  models  in  front  of 
them.  No  doubt  they  fixed  the  position  of  the  Child  at 
the  side  of  the  Virgin  in  order  that  the  line  of  her  ma- 
jestic form  might  not  be  broken,  and  that  her  face  might 


Notes  317 

be  revealed  to  observers  below  the  level  of  the  statues, 
but  that  they  should  have  made  the  Child  so  extremely 
small  and  insignificant  considering  His  relative  impor- 
tance compared  with  that  of  the  Grecian  infant  in  arms, 
is  remarkable. 

NOTE   37.       PAGE  90 

It  is  too  early  yet  to  fix  definitely  the  position  of  Rodin 
in  art.  There  is  much  sifting  of  his  works  to  be  done, 
for  of  all  artists  with  a  wide  reputation,  he  was  perhaps 
the  most  variable.  Still  he  may  be  called  one  of  the 
greater  artists,  and  so  is  amongst  the  rare  exceptions 
mentioned,  for  he  executed  one  or  two  hideous  figures, 
the  most  notable  being  La  Vieille  Heaulmi^re.*  This 
cannot  properly  be  described  as  a  work  of  art  because  it 
is  revolting  to  the  senses :  it  is  merely  a  species  of  writing 
— a  hieroglyph,  and  Rodin's  own  apology  for  it  is  a  direct 
condemnation,  since  a  work  of  sculpture  cannot  be  good 
if  general  opinion  does  not  approve  of  it.     He  says^: 

What  matters  solely  to  me  is  the  opinion  of  people  of  taste,  and 
I  have  been  delighted  to  gain  their  approbation  for  my  La  Vieille 
Heaulmiere.  I  am  like  the  Roman  singer  who  replied  to  the  jeers 
of  the  populace,  Equitibus  Cano.  I  sing  only  for  the  nobles; 
that  is  to  say  for  the  connoisseurs.  The  vtilgar  readily  imagine 
that  what  they  consider  ugly  is  not  a  fit  subject  for  the  artist. 
They  would  like  to  forbid  us  to  represent  what  displeases  and 
oflfends  them  in  natiire.  It  is  a  great  error  on  their  part.  What 
is  commonly  called  "ugliness"  in  nature  can  in  art  become  full 
of  great  beauty.  In  the  domain  of  art  we  call  ugly  what  is  de- 
formed, whatever  is  unhealthy.  .  .  .  Ugly  also  is  the  soul  of 
the  vicious  or  criminal  man.  .  .  .  But  let  a  great  artist  or 
writer  make  use  of  one  or  other  of  these  uglinesses,  instantly  it 
becomes  transfigured :  with  a  touch  of  his  fairy  wand  he  has  turned 
it  into  beauty:  it  is  alchemy:  it  is  enchantment. 


a  At  the  Luxembourg. 

b  Gsell's  Art,  by  Auguste  Rodin, 


31 8  Notes 

Rodin  then  goes  on  to  refer  to  the  description  of  ugly 
objects  by  the  poets,  in  support  of  his  argument  that  they 
may  be  represented  by  the  painter!  It  was  his  error  in 
confusing  the  objects  of  the  literary  with  those  of  the 
plastic  arts,  that  led  him  to  carve  La  Vieille  Heaulmi^re, 
for  he  admitted  that  he  wished  to  put  into  sculpture 
what  Villon  had  put  into  a  poem.  Professor  Waldstein 
properly  pointed  out  that,  this  being  so,  the  observer  of 
the  sculpture  should  be  provided  with  a  copy  of  the  poem 
when  in  front  of  the  statue,  adding  ^ : 

and  even  then  the  work  remains  only  the  presentation  of  a  female 
figure  deformed  in  every  detail  by  the  wear  and  tear  of  time,  and 
of  a  life  ending  in  disease  and  nothing  more.  It  is  the  worst  form 
of  literary  sculpture,  of  which  we  have  had  so  much  by  artists  who 
represent  the  very  opposite  pole  of  the  modem  reaHsts. 

Elsewhere  the  respective  positions  of  the  poet  and  painter 
(or  sculptor)  in  the  representation  of  ugliness  are  dealt 
with,  but  it  may  be  added  that  in  the  case  of  La  Vieille 
Heaulmiere,  Rodin  does  not  render  in  sculpture  the  poem 
of  Villion,  but  only  a  part  of  it,  for  of  course  he  could  not 
show  the  progression  in  the  life  of  the  courtesan,  indicated 
by  the  poet,  which  progression  puts  an  entirely  different 
complexion  upon  the  ugly  figure  of  the  poet  compared 
with  that  of  the  sculptor.  Clearly  Rodin  was  misled  when 
he  said  that  people  of  taste  have  given  their  approbation 
to  his  appalling  figure,  for  it  has  been  condemned  among 
all  classes,  while  its  few  defenders  have  failed  to  support 
their  opinions  by  reason  or  experience. 

We  may  note  that  at  another  time  Rodin  reflected 
upon  the  character  of  the  ancient  Greek  sculpture  for 
the  very  reason  upon  which  he  bases  his  claim  for  public 
approval  of  La  Vieille  Heaulmiere.     He  says*': 

a  Greek  Sculpture  and  Modern  Art,  19 14. 
t>  Gsell's  Art,  by  Auguste  Rodin. 


-  "^ 

I,  - 

03 


Notes  319 

That  was  the  fault  of  the  Hellenic  ideal.  The  beauty  conceived 
by  the  Greeks  was  the  order  dreamed  of  by  intelligence,  but  it 
only  appealed  to  the  cultivated  mind,  disdaining  the  humble. 

Here  also  is  a  confusion  of  ideas,  for  the  intelligence  can- 
not dream  of  a  special  kind  of  beauty  which  would  not 
be  recognized  by  the  humble,  unless  it  were  so  feeble  as 
to  be  altogether  below  Greek  conceptions.  The  aim  of 
the  Greek  sculptors  was  to  appeal  to  all  classes,  and  in 
this  they  were  eminently  successful. 

NOTE    38.      PAGE  92 

Ruskin  considered  the  figure  of  Christ,  known  as  Le 
Bon  Dieu  d'Amiens,  at  Amiens  Cathedral,  the  noblest 
ideal  of  Christ  in  existence,^  and  Dean  Farrar  wrote  of 
it:  "  Christ  is  represented  as  standing  at  the  central  point 
of  all  history,  and  of  all  Revelation."  ^  It  is  true  that  the 
sculpture  is  a  noble  representation  of  Christ,  but  this  is 
not  because  it  is  a  Christian  ideal.  In  type  it  is  purely 
Greek  of  the  late  fourth  or  early  third  century  b.c. 
The  expression  is  general,  exhibiting  the  calm  repose  that 
the  Greeks  gave  to  a  great  philosopher. 

NOTE   39.      PAGE  97 

In  the  case  of  the  Madonna,  Michelangelo  does  not 
appear  to  produce  an  ideal  woman:  he  only  gives  an 
improved  woman.  His  nearest  approach  to  the  ideal  is  in 
his  early  Pieta  at  St.  Peter's,  but  even  here  the  Virgin  is 
only  a  less  earthly  prototype  of  his  later  figures.  The 
Madonna  in  the  Holy  Family  at  the  Ufifizi  is  much  in- 
ferior, being  merely  a  slightly  ennobled  Italian  peasant. 
The  other  Madonnas  are  far  higher  in  character  and  seem 
to  suggest  the  antique,  except  that  the  more  material 

a  The  Bible  of  Amiens.     See  Plate  2. 
b  The  Life  of  Christ  as  Represented  in  Art. 


320  Notes 

qualities  of  woman  are  always  present.  The  Madonnas 
at  the  Bargello  and  San  Lorenzo  are  of  the  same  general 
type  as  the  figure  in  the  Last  Judgment,  the  Night  in  the 
Medici  Chapel,  the  Leda  in  the  Bargello,  and  the  Venus 
in  the  sketch  made  for  Pontormo.  This  being  so,  it 
may  be  imagined  when  the  Leda  is  called  to  mind,  that 
it  is  hard  to  associate  the  two  Madonnas  with  Christian 
ideals.  The  figures  are  magnificent  works,  but  they  are 
behind  the  Madonnas  of  Raphael  from  the  point  of  view 
of  Christian  conceptions.  The  expression  is  general,  and 
all  the  countenances  except  one,  indicate  unconcern  with 
surroundings;  not  the  sublime  unconcern  of  a  Phidian 
god,  which  implies  an  apparent  disregard  of  particulars 
because  they  are  necessarily  understood  with  an  all- 
powerful  comprehension  of  principles,  but  an  unconcern 
which  suggests  a  want  of  deep  interest  in  life.  The 
exception  is  the  San  Lorenzo  Madonna,  in  which  a  certain 
calm  resignation  is  the  principal  feature  in  expression. 
Michelangelo  was  more  successful  with  his  men  than 
with  his  women.  His  painted  prophets  in  the  Sistine 
Chapel  are  as  sublime  as  his  scenes  from  the  Creation; 
and  his  Moses  in  St.  Peter's  is  rightly  regarded  as  the 
first  sculpture  of  the  Renaissance. 

NOTE  40.      PAGE  99 

When  the  Pieta  of  Michelangelo  (in  St.  Peter's,  Rome) 
was  first  exposed,  some  comment  was  made  upon  the 
comparatively  youthful  appearance  of  the  Virgin,  and 
Condivi  relates  that  he  spoke  to  the  sculptor  on  the 
subject.     In  reply  Michelangelo  said^: 

Don't  you  know  that  chaste  women  preserve  their  beauty  and 
youthful  character  much  longer  than  those  who  are  not  chaste? 
How  youthful  then  must  appear  the  immaculate    Virgin  who 


a  Lanzi's  History  of  Painting  in  Italy,  Roscoe  translation,  vol.  i. 


Notes  321 

cannot  be  supposed  ever  to  have  had  a  vitiated  thought.  And 
this  is  only  according  to  the  natural  order  of  things:  but  why 
may  not  we  suppose  in  this  particular  case,  that  nature  might  be 
assisted  by  Divine  interposition,  to  demonstrate  to  the  world  the 
virginity  and  perpetual  purity  of  the  Mother?  This  was  not 
necessary  in  the  Son,  nay,  rather  on  the  contrary,  since  Divine 
omnipotence  was  willing  to  show  that  the  Son  of  God  would  take 
upon  Him,  as  he  did,  the  body  of  man,  with  all  his  earthly  infirm- 
ities except  that  of  sin.  Therefore  it  was  not  necessary  for  me  to 
make  the  human  subordinate  to  the  Divine  character,  but  to  con- 
sider it  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature  under  the  actual  existing 
circumstances.  Hence  you  ought  not  to  wonder  that  from  such  a 
consideration,  I  should  make  the  most  holy  Virgin-Mother  of 
God,  in  comparison  with  the  Son,  much  younger  than  would  other- 
wise be  required,  and  that  I  should  have  represented  the  Son  at 
His  proper  age. 

NOTE  41.      PAGE   100 

A  few  modem  painters  have  produced  works  in  which 
the  Holy  Family  are  pictured  in  lowly  surroundings, 
but  generally  they  appear  to  shock  the  public  sense  of 
propriety.  Many  persons  will  remember  the  sensation 
caused  by  Millais's  The  Carpenter's  Shop,  where  Christ 
is  shown  as  a  boy  of  about  ten  years  of  age  in  the  work- 
shop of  St.  Joseph,  and  Holman  Hunt's  Shadow  of  the 
Cross.  Later  artists  have  been  still  more  realistic, 
notably  Uhde,  whose  sacred  scenes  almost  stagger  one 
with  their  modem  suggestions,  and  Demont-Breton, 
whose  Divine  Apprentice  represents  the  Boy  Christ 
sharpening  a  tool  at  a  grindstone  which  is  ttimed  by  the 
Virgin. 

NOTE  42.      PAGE    108 

Unquestionably  the  rapid  advance  in  Italian  art  in  the 
fifteenth  century  was  largely  due  to  the  influence  of  the 
ancient  Greek  and  Roman  remains.  Indeed  there  are 
very  few  sculptors  of  the  period  who  fail  to  show  evi- 


322  Notes 

dence  of  studies  in  Greek  forms  and  ornaments,  while  in 
painting  there  are  hundreds  of  figures  which  covdd  scarcely 
have  been  designed  in  the  absence  of  antique  models. 
True  in  some  cases  the  artists  do  not  appear  to  have 
gone  beyond  the  ancient  literature,  as  with  Masaccio 
who  must  have  had  Homer  in  his  mind  when  he  painted 
his  figures  of  Eve  in  the  Florence  frescoes,  and  Piero  di 
Cosimo,  whose  fanciful  compositions  savoiu*  of  the  old 
legends  wrapped  up  in  fairy  stories;  but  many  painters 
were  steeped  both  in  the  art  and  literat\u-e  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  and  made  good  use  of  them. 

But  the  most  direct  evidence  of  the  influence  of  Greek 
art  upon  Italian  artists  of  the  fifteenth  and  early  sixteenth 
centuries,  is  to  be  fotmd  in  the  splendid  series  of  bronze 
statuettes  of  the  period.  In  their  monumental  figures 
the  sculptors  were  more  or  less  confined  in  their  designs 
by  considerations  of  portraittue,  conventional  drapery 
and  symbols,  and  local  requirements,  and  while  they  were 
greatly  assisted  by  Greek  experience,  yet  only  rarely 
were  they  strictly  at  liberty  except  with  ornaments  and 
accessories.  But  in  the  small  bronze  figures  their  fancy 
could  roam  at  will,  and  they  made  good  use  of  this  free- 
dom in  displaying  their  ready  acceptance  of  the  first 
principle  in  the  design  of  the  human  figure  recognized 
by  the  Greeks — that  the  sculptor  must  arrive  at  perfec- 
tion of  form  if  that  be  possible ;  that  this  perfection  is  not 
to  be  found  in  any  single  form  in  life,  and  consequently 
the  artist  must  combine  perfected  parts  into  a  harmoni- 
ous whole,  independently  of  particular  models.  The 
agreement  with  this  principle  was  general,  with  scarcely 
an  exception  amongst  the  bronze  figure  designers,  and 
the  result  was  that  in  the  period  say,  from  1450  to  1525, 
there  was  executed  a  series  of  bronzes  fully  representa- 
tive of  the  highest  level  which  plastic  art  has  reached 
since  the  greater  days  of  Greece.     Right  up  to  the  time 


Notes  323 

of  the  maturity  of  Michelangelo,  nearly  every  bronze 
figurine  cast  is  purely  Grecian  in  type,  and  every  orna- 
ment, and  even  every  accessory  which  is  not  from  its 
nature  of  contemporary  style,  can  be  traced  to  Greece, 
either  directly  or  through  Rome. 

Michelangelo  brought  about  a  change  in  accentuating 
the  muscular  development  of  the  body,  and  before  the 
middle  of  the  sixteenth  century  most  sculptors  had  come 
under  his  influence.  This  was  unfortunate  for  he  alone 
seemed  to  be  capable  of  harmoniously  combining  Greek 
lines  with  muscular  power.  A  few  of  his  contemporaries, 
as  Sansovino,  Leone,  Cellini,  learned  how  to  join,  with 
due  restraint,  his  innovations  with  modifications  of  the 
Greek  torso,  but  generally  the  imitation  of  the  great 
Florentine  initiated  a  decadence,  as  it  was  bound  to  do, 
for  it  was  accompanied  with  life  modelling,  and  so  meant 
a  radical  departure  from  the  Greek  forms.  Giovanni  di 
Bologna  alone  among  the  later  sixteenth  century  sculp- 
tors, was  strong  enough  to  move  in  an  independent  direc- 
tion. He  restrained  the  accentuation  of  the  muscles, 
and  lightened  the  Greek  type  of  torso,  combining  with 
these  conditions  an  elegance  in  design  which  has  never 
since  been  surpassed. 

This  then  is  the  principal  cause  of  the  high  aesthetic 
value  of  the  Renaissance  bronzes:  the  human  form  ex- 
hibited by  them  is  altogether  more  beautiful  than  the 
form  coming  within  the  compass  of  life  experience. 
Then  the  details  of  work  on  the  bronzes  are  immensely 
superior  to  those  of  the  general  modem  handiwork. 
For  instance  the  chiselling  of  such  men  as  Riccio  and 
Cellini,  has  never  been  equalled  since  their  time,  save 
perhaps  by  Gouthiere.  And  how  poor,  comparatively, 
are  the  present-day  castings!  How  carefully  the  old 
masters  worked;  how  particular  they  were  with  their 
clay;  how  skilfully  they  prepared  their  wax,  and  how 


324  Notes 

slowly  and  deliberately  the  mould!  How  many  artists 
now  would  have  the  patience  to  make  such  a  mould? 
For  the  beautiful  patinas  on  many  of  the  Renaissance 
bronzes,  age  is  mostly  responsible,  though  lacquers  were 
often  used  for  the  provision  of  artificial  patinas,  par- 
ticularly after  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the 
finest  being  found  on  some  of  the  works  of  Giovanni  di 
Bologna.  The  tone  of  natural  patina  depends  largely 
upon  the  kind  of  oxidation  to  which  the  bronze  has  been 
subjected,  and  it  is  no  doubt  often  affected  by  the  alloy 
used.  Few  modem  artists  have  given  close  attention  to 
the  alloys,  while  the  method  of  casting  is  now  usually 
regarded  as  a  detail  of  minor  importance. 

Seeing  that  the  production  of  figurines  accompanied 
every  civilization  from  the  dawn  of  history  to  the  collapse 
of  the  Roman  Empire,  it  is  curious  that  the  renaissance 
of  sculpture  after  the  Dark  Age  should  have  progressed 
a  long  way  before  general  attention  was  again  turned  to 
these  bronzes.  There  are  a  few  figures  of  animals  which 
seem  to  be  Italian  work  of  the  late  trecento,  but  beyond 
these  the  small  cast  bronzes  made  in  Italy  before 
the  maturity  of  Ghiberti,  were  practically  confined  to 
Madonnas  and  Saints,  mostly  gilt,  made  to  fill  Gothic 
niches,  or  adorn  the  altars  of  churches  and  private  chap- 
els. Slender  Saints  they  were  as  a  rule,  but  always 
elegant,  with  serene  countenances  and  delicate  features; 
beautifully  modelled  as  became  the  inheritors  of  the 
traditions  of  the  Pisanos.  It  was  somewhere  about  the 
middle  of  the  fifteenth  century  that  Italy  commenced 
to  make  ungilt  statuettes  suitable  for  household  orna- 
ments, and  fully  ten  or  fifteen  years  more  passed  away 
before  they  were  produced  with  any  regularity.  The 
earliest  of  them  of  any  importance  appear  to  be  a  couple 
of  Flagellators  from  the  design  of  Ghiberti.  They  are 
fine  pieces  of  work,  evidently  from  clay  models  made  for 


Notes  325 

the  scourging  scene  in  one  of  the  gates  of  the  Florence 
Baptistry — gates  described  by  Michelangelo  as  worthy 
to  fill  the  portals  of  Paradise.  These  figures  date  about 
1440.  There  is  a  Child  Christ  of  a  few  years  later  by 
Luca  della  Robbia;  and  two  or  three  figures  from  models 
of  Donatello  may  be  assigned  to  the  neighbourhood  of 
1450.  In  the  next  ten  years  were  turned  out  some 
figures  from  remaining  models  of  Donatello  which  had 
been  used  for  his  work  at  Prato  and  Padua. 

So  far  the  small  bronzes  made  were  from  studies  for 
larger  works  of  sculpture,  but  about  this  time  intense 
interest  began  to  be  taken  in  the  remains  of  Greek  and 
Roman  art,  and  no  doubt  it  was  the  increased  importance 
attached  to  the  antique  bronze  figures,  mostly  household 
gods  of  the  Greeks,  Etruscans,  and  Romans,  that  first 
led  the  principal  Renaissance  artists  to  turn  their  atten- 
tion to  similar  work.  From  this  time  on,  for  a  century 
and  a  half,  these  bronze  figures  were  regularly  made. 
The  existing  figurines  may  be  broadly  classified  in  four 
divisions,  namely,  the  Paduan  and  Florentine  figures 
executed  prior  to  1525;  those  of  the  school  of  Michel- 
angelo ;  those  of  the  Venetian  school  headed  by  Sansovino ; 
and  those  of  Giovanni  di  Bologna  and  his  school.  Leav- 
ing out  of  consideration  the  small  ornaments  for  ink- 
stands, vases,  etc.,  the  little  animals,  and  the  purely 
commercial  imitations,  chiefly  Venetian,  made  at  the 
end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the  total  number  of  Renais- 
sance bronzes  now  known  is  roughly  six  thousand.  Of 
these  under  a  hundred  are  from  models  for  larger  works 
by  Ghiberti,  Donatello,  Verrocchio,  Lionardo,  Michel- 
angelo, and  a  few  lesser  lights;  about  two  thousand  re- 
present original  designs  specially  prepared  for  bronze 
production ;  some  three  thousand  five  hundred  are  dupli- 
cates of,  or  slight  variations  from,  these  originals,  exe- 
cuted by  pupils  or  near  contemporaries  of  the  masters; 


326  Notes 

and  the  balance  of  four  hundred  or  so,  are  direct  re- 
productions of,  or  variations  from,  antique  sculptures. 
Naturally  all  collectors  aim  for  the  first  two  sections, 
but  the  third  section  contains  many  fine  bronzes,  often 
close  to  the  originals,  with  equally  good  patinas.  They 
vary  greatly,  though  they  are  all  ascribed  in  commerce 
to  the  artists  responsible  for  the  originals. 

The  character  of  these  variations  is  best  seen  in  the 
case  of  Riccio,  the  most  prolific  of  the  bronze  workers 
of  the  Renaissance.  He  designed  and  executed  under 
forty  small  bronze  figures  and  groups,  besides  some  large 
bronze  works  of  high  importance.  Of  his  small  pieces 
there  are  in  existence  about  a  hundred  duplicates  made 
by  his  pupils  and  immediate  contemporaries,  who  also 
adapted  into  household  ornaments,  various  details 
from  his  larger  works,  bringing  up  the  number  of  Riccios 
made  from  his  models  during  his  lifetime,  other  than  by 
himself,  to  about  a  hundred  and  fifty.  These  are  all 
bronzes  of  a  high  order.  Then  about  an  equal  nimiber 
of  both  kinds  of  models  were  reproduced  during  the 
twenty  years  following  his  death,  all  fairly  good,  but  often 
slightly  varied  from  the  originals;  and  finally  there  are 
Riccios  copied  by  Venetian  craftsmen  in  the  third  quarter 
of  the  sixteenth  centiu*y,  sometimes  considerably  varied, 
and  occasionally  with  purely  Venetian  ornaments  added. 
These  last  mark  the  first  distinct  decadence  in  the  small 
bronze  art  of  the  period.  Next  to  Riccio  among  the 
earlier  sculptors,  in  the  ntmiber  of  bronzes  designed,  was 
his  great  contemporary,  Antico,  who  accomplished  some 
thirty  or  so.  He  differed  from  Riccio  in  that  while  the 
latter  adhered  to  the  Grecian  practice  in  the  design  of 
details  and  ornaments,  but  varied  the  modelling  some- 
what to  bring  it  more  in  conformity  with  the  contempo- 
rary ideas  of  elegance,  Antico  kept  strictly  to  the 
Grecian  modelling,    but  commonly  varied  the  ancient 


Notes  327 

designs.  There  are  few  duplicates  of  Antico's  work, 
made  either  during  his  lifetime  or  after.  As  with  Riccio, 
his  imitators  overcame  the  difficulty  of  the  chiselling  by 
leaving  it  out,  relying  upon  the  wax  to  give  close  enough 
resemblance  to  the  originals. 

Of  the  other  small  bronze  sculptors  prior  to  the  matu- 
rity of  Michelangelo,  few  executed  more  than  half  a 
score  of  figures.  The  best  known  are  the  immediate  suc- 
cessors of  Donatello  in  the  Paduan  school,  as  Bertoldo 
and  Bellano,  and  the  giants  of  the  Florentine  school,  as 
Filarete  and  A.  Pollaiuolo.  Bronzes  by  these  artists 
are  very  rare,  and  so  are  the  duplicates  of  them  made 
by  pupils,  though  Bertoldo,  who  reminds  one  strangely 
of  Lysippus,  had  occasional  imitators  for  the  next  two 
centuries.  These  bronzes  include  many  models  which 
have  not  been  equalled  by  the  greatest  of  later  sculptors, 
and  they  will  never  be  matched  until  there  arises  a  new 
school  of  sculptors  resolved  to  imbibe  the  truths  which  the 
Renaissance  artists  gleaned  from  the  ancient  Greeks. 

NOTE   43.      PAGE   1 10 

The  writer  has  used  Greek  and  Roman  names  for  these 
gods  to  some  extent  indiscriminately,  in  accordance  with 
the  universal  custom  in  art.  Nevertheless  the  practice 
is  to  be  regretted  as  it  tends  to  complicate  the  general 
ideas  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  religions.  Notwith- 
standing the  occasional  direct  association  of  some  of 
their  deities  with  human  personages  by  their  poets,  the 
Romans  regarded  their  gods  as  purely  spiritual  beings, 
having  no  special  earthly  habitation,  or  sex  relations 
with  the  himian  race,  while  their  powers  wideiy  differed 
from  those  of  the  respective  Greek  deities  with  whom 
they  are  commonly  identified.  Authorities  differ  as  to 
whether  the  gods  were  supposed  to  have  spiritual  marital 


328  Notes 

relations  with  each  other.*  In  any  case  the  whole 
nature  of  their  religion  precluded  the  development 
amongst  the  Romans  of  a  separate  sacred  art.  Their 
sculptured  gods,  which  were  taken  from  Grecian  models, 
were  symbols  rather  than  presimied  types. 

NOTE  44.      PAGE    III 

If  we  may  judge  from  the  headless  figures  of  the 
goddesses,  commonly  known  as  the  Three  Fates,  from  the 
east  pediment  of  the  Parthenon,  there  seems  to  be  little 
difference  between  the  general  lines  of  the  feminine  torso 
represented  by  the  Phidian  ideal,  and  those  of  the 
Praxitelean  model.  The  Parthenon  torsos  are  more 
massive  proportionately,  but  the  object  of  both  Phidias 
and  Praxiteles  was  evidently  to  straighten  the  outer 
lines  of  the  torso  as  nearly  as  possible,  making  due  allow- 
ance for  the  varied  natural  swellings  of  their  respective 
forms.  It  is  obvious  that  the  use  of  attire  gave  Phidias 
(presuming  the  Parthenon  figures  referred  to  were  designed 
by  him,  as  they  probably  were)  a  latitude  in  varying  the 
proportions  of  the  torsos  which  he  could  not  have  exer- 
cised in  the  case  of  nude  forms.  Unclothed,  the  figures 
would  appear  unwieldy,  and  the  graceful  flowing  lines 
resulting  from  the  partly  clinging  drapery  could  not  be 
so  completely  presented  with  nude  reclining  or  semi- 
reclining  figiires.  There  are  other  features  also  which 
prevent  the  nude  representation  of  such  massive  forms. 
Thus,  the  breasts  would  necessarily  be  out  of  proportion 
in  size,  and  widely  separated.  These  conditions  are 
common  in  fifth  century  and  archaic  figures,  and  do  not 
appear  to  be  defects  in  forms  of  life  size  or  less,  but  they 
would  be  strikingly  noticeable  in  super  figures  of  the 

a  See  J.  G.  Frazer's  Adonis,  Attis,  Osiris,  1914,  vol.  ii.;  and  W.  W. 
Fowler's  Religious  Experience  of  the  Roman  People,  191 1. 


Notes  329 

broad  massive  type  with  Phidian  lines.  The  addition 
of  Hght  drapery,  however,  converts  the  apparent  faults 
into  virtues,  for  the  artist  is  enabled  therewith  to  give 
new  sweeping  curves  to  the  forms  which  conspicuously 
enhance  the  general  beauty  of  the  figure. 

A  still  more  amazing  instance  where  the  use  of  drapery 
allows  the  artist  to  vary  the  recognized  proportions  of  the 
feminine  form  to  an  extent  which  would  be  impossible 
with  nude  figures,  is  the  celebrated  Ariadne  at  the 
Vatican.^  This  beautiful  work,  which  is  of  the  Hellenistic 
period,  shows  the  daughter  of  Minos  attired  in  a  light 
flowing  single  garment,  and  reclining  on  a  couch,  asleep. 
The  upper  part  of  her  body  leans  against  the  head  of  the 
couch,  but  the  remainder  is  extended  nearly  at  full 
length.  The  extraordinary  feature  of  the  work  is  that 
the  length  of  the  figure  is  altogether  out  of  proportion 
with  the  head  and  with  the  breadth  of  the  torso,  being 
much  too  great,  and  yet  so  skilfully  is  the  drapery 
arranged  that  this  very  defect  becomes  an  advantage, 
for  it  enables  a  lofty  grace,  almost  approaching  grandeur, 
to  be  given  to  the  figure,  which  would  be  impossible  with- 
out the  exaggeration.  By  the  excellent  device  of  a 
closely  arranged  cross  fold  of  drapery  passing  round  the 
middle  of  the  figure,  the  artist  apparently  shortens  it, 
so  that  the  eye  of  the  observer  is  not  held  by  its  great 
length.  Only  one  other  example  of  the  supreme  use  of 
drapery  in  this  way  seems  to  be  known — a  bronze  sitting 
figure  of  Calliope,^  which  is  of  the  late  Hellenistic  period, 
and  is  obviously  of  the  same  school  as  the  Ariadne  marble. 

NOTE  45.      PAGE    112 

Praxiteles  is  known  to  have  executed  at  least  four 
other  statues  of  Aphrodite  besides  the  Cnidian  example, 
a  See  Plate  29.  t>  Dreicer  GjUection,  New  York. 


330  Notes 

but  this  last  is  the  only  one  as  to  which  we  have  fairly 
complete  records,  and  of  which  copies  have  been  closely 
identified.  It  is  also  the  most  celebrated.  We  may 
therefore  accept  the  work  as  typical  for  comparative 
purposes. 

NOTE  46.      PAGE   113 

There  has  been  much  discussion  as  to  whether  Apelles 
showed  the  same  extent  of  figure  as  is  represented  in  the 
sculpture,  a  common  suggestion  being  that  he  brought 
the  surface  of  the  water  to  the  waist  line ;  but  it  is  evident 
that  the  painting  corresponded  with  the  sculpture  in  this 
particular.  The  artist  had  to  represent  the  goddess 
walking  towards  the  shore.  If  he  brought  the  water  to 
the  waist  line  he  could  not  definitely  suggest  movement, 
as  a  deflection  of  the  shoulder  line  might  mean  that  the 
goddess  was  in  an  attitude  of  rest,  corresponding  to  the 
pose  of  nearly  all  the  sculptured  figures  of  the  Praxitelean 
school.  On  the  other  hand  if  he  carried  the  water  line 
down  towards  the  knees,  the  advance  of  the  right  leg 
would  be  most  marked,  and  the  effect  disturbing  because 
of  the  loss  of  repose,  a  quality  at  all  times  valuable  in  a 
painting  of  a  single  figure,  and  really  necessary  in  the 
representation  of  Venus.  The  artist  very  properly  re- 
duced the  portion  of  the  thighs  visible  to  the  smallest 
fraction  possible  compatible  with  an  expression  of  move- 
ment, in  order  to  give  the  figure  the  greatest  repose 
attainable.  Under  any  circumstances  there  was  nothing 
to  gain  by  showing  the  water  reaching  to  the  waist. 

Certain  details  of  the  picture  by  Apelles  are  to  be 
obtained  from  Grecian  epigrams.  Thus,  one  by  Anti- 
pater  of  Sidon  contains  these  lines  * : 

*  Translated  by  Lord  Neaves. 


Notes  331 

Venus,  emerging  from  her  parent  sea, 

Apelles*  graphic  skill  does  here  portray: 
She  wrings  her  hair,  while  round  the  bright  drops  flee, 

And  presses  from  her  locks  the  foamy  spray. 

From  this  it  would  appear  that  the  position  of  the  god- 
dess when  painted  was  prestimed  to  be  comparatively 
near  the  artist,  otherwise  the  separate  drops  of  falling 
water  would  not  have  been  observed.  The  last  line  in 
the  following  epigram  by  Leonides  of  Tarentum  indicates 
the  ideal  character  of  the  countenance,  though  evidence 
of  this  is  scarcely  necessary  * : 

As  Venus  from  her  mother's  bosom  rose 

(Her  beauty  with  the  murmuring  sea-foam  glows), 

Apelles  caught  and  fixed  each  heavenly  charm; 

No  picture,  but  the  life,  sincere  and  warm. 

See  how  those  finger  tips  those  tresses  wring! 

See  how  those  eyes  a  calm-like  radiance  fling! 

NOTE  47.      PAGE    124 

So  far  as  the  writer  knows,  Piero  was  the  only  artist 
of  the  Renaissance  who  used  this  mythological  story  for 
a  composition  (his  picture  has  hitherto  been  called  an 
allegory),  a  circimistance  which  is  rather  singular  con- 
sidering the  suitableness  of  the  subject  for  the  provision 
of  effective  designs.  The  Greek  sculptors  in  dealing 
with  the  legend  confined  themselves  to  the  moment  when 
Athena  threw  down  the  pipes,  apparently  for  the  reason 
that  this  instant  gave  an  opportunity  of  rendering  Mar- 
syas  in  a  strong  dramatic  action.  The  famous  statue 
of  the  faun  after  Myron  in  Rome,  is  supposed  to  have 
formed  part  of  a  group  representing  Athena  and  Marsyas 
immediately  after  the  pipes  were  dropped,  and  the 
design  appears  on  still  existing  coins  and  vases  of  the 
fifth  and  fourth  centuries  B.C.   Piero  takes  a  later  moment, 

a  Translated  by  Lord  Neaves. 


332  Notes 

showing  Marsyas  comfortably  squatting  in  the  fore- 
ground of  a  delightful  fanciful  landscape,  expressing 
boyish  satisfaction  with  the  prizes  he  is  about  to  try. 
He  is  properly  shown  as  a  satyr  instead  of  in  the  faun 
form  of  the  sculptor.  There  appears  to  be  no  legitimate 
place  in  painting  for  a  faun,  while  a  satyr  may  at  times 
be  appropriately  introduced  into  a  pastoral  composition. 

NOTE  48.     PAGE    125 

Controversy  has  raged  around  this  picture  for  some- 
thing like  seventy  years.  The  work  came  to  light  before 
1850  at  a  public  auction  sale  when  it  was  attributed  to 
Mantegna,  with  whom  of  course  it  had  nothing  to  do. 
Then  it  was  pronounced  a  Raphael,  but  this  was  disputed 
by  Passavant  who  held  that  on  account  of  the  thin  lower 
limbs  of  the  figures,  and  the  minute  way  in  which  the 
landscape  was  painted,  it  could  not  be  by  Raphael,  but 
was  of  the  school  of  Francia,  or  by  Timoteo  della  Viti. 
Morelli  brought  back  the  attribution  to  Raphael,  and 
the  work  then  came  into  the  possession  of  the  Louvre. 
Subsequently  Pinturicchio  and  Perugino  were  alter- 
nately suggested  as  the  painter,  and  to  the  latter  the 
picture  was  assigned  by  the  Louvre  authorities.  All 
are  agreed  that  the  date  of  the  work  is  about  1502.  It 
does  not  seem  possible  that  Perugino  could  have  painted 
the  picture,  for  the  subject  and  invention  are  entirely 
foreign  to  him,  while  the  lithe  active  form  of  Apollo  does 
not  consort  with  the  least  formal  of  his  known  figures. 
The  landscape  is  much  in  his  manner,  but  so  it  is  also 
in  the  style  of  Raphael's  early  period,  while  the  small 
buildings  therein  are  closely  finished  as  in  some  of 
Raphael's  other  works  of  the  time.*     Perugino  used 

a  See  Portrait  of  a  young  Man  at  Budapest,  and  the  Terranuova 
Virgin  and  Child  at  BerUn. 


Notes  333 

similar  towers  and  buildings,  but  being  a  more  experi- 
enced painter  he  did  not  so  finely  elaborate  the  details. 
The  suggestion  relating  to  the  school  of  Francia  was 
afterwards  very  properly  withdrawn,  and  Pinturicchio 
must  be  ruled  out  on  acccount  of  the  landscape,  apart 
from  the  supple  figure  of  Apollo  of  which  he  was  inca- 
pable. There  remain  then  only  Timoteo  della  Viti  and 
Raphael  as  the  possible  painters  of  the  work.  But  it 
cannot  reasonably  be  suggested  that  Timoteo  could  have 
accomplished  so  perfect  a  figure  as  the  Apollo,  and  more- 
over so  original  a  figure.  It  certainly  required  an  ex- 
ceptionally bold  mind  to  overcome  the  difficulty  in 
rendering  the  traditionally  semi-feminine  form  of  Apollo 
by  representing  him  as  a  young  man  just  past  his  teens. 
Besides,  the  general  delicacy  of  the  work  is  not  in  the 
style  of  Timoteo.  Passavant's  objection  to  the  limbs  is 
overruled  by  the  presence  of  similar  limbs  in  the  Mond 
Crucifixion.  It  would  seem  then  that  Morelli  was  right 
in  assigning  the  beautiful  little  picture  to  the  youthful 
period  of  the  greatest  of  all  painters. 

NOTE  49.      PAGE    138 

The  white  races  are  here  referred  to  merely  by  way  of 
example,  and  there  is  no  intention  to  suggest  that  the 
more  or  less  uncivilized  peoples  have  no  perception  of 
beauty.  It  is  well  known  that  both  semi-civilized  and 
savage  races  differ  from  the  whites  in  the  matter  of 
beauty,  and  the  fact  has  been  partly  responsible  for 
several  theories  for  explaining  aesthetic  perception,  no- 
tably that  of  association,  laid  down  by  Alison  and  Jeffrey, 
but  long  since  discarded.  Seeing  that  there  is  no  differ- 
ence in  kind  between  the  sense  nerves  of  the  whites  and 
the  blacks,  they  must  necessarily  act  in  the  same  way. 
That  the  blacks  appreciate  as  beautiful  forms  which  the 


334  Notes 

whites  disregard,  seems  to  arise  partly  from  want  of 
experience,  partly  from  training,  and  partly  from  neglect 
in  the  exercise  of  the  sense  nerves.  Take  for  example  an 
inhabitant  of  Morocco  where  corpulency  is  commonly 
regarded  as  an  element  of  beauty  in  women.  If  none  but 
Moroccan  women  are  seen  or  pictured,  it  is  impossible 
for  a  higher  form  of  beauty  than  is  to  be  found  amongst 
them  to  be  conceived,  for  the  imagination  cannot  act 
beyond  experience.  In  cases  where  the  Moroccan  has 
had  experience  of  both  white  and  black,  it  is  certain 
that,  other  things  being  equal,  the  white  woman  would 
be  the  more  admired,  for  this  is  the  general  experience 
among  the  black  races,  and  is  strikingly  noticeable  in 
America  with  the  descendants  of  African  tribes.  The 
appreciation  of  very  fat  women  can  easily  be  understood 
on  the  ground  of  custom  or  training.  A  youthful 
Moroccan  may  be  firmly  of  opinion  that  corpulency  is 
not  an  element  of  beauty,  but  seeing  that  his  older  ac- 
quaintances hold  a  contrary  view,  he  may  well  form  the 
conclusion  that  his  judgment  is  wrong,  and  so  accept 
the  decision  of  his  more  mature  countrymen.  It  is 
quite  common  among  the  whites  for  people  to  doubt 
their  own  aesthetic  perceptions  when  an  inferior  work  of 
art  is  put  forward  as  a  thing  of  beauty.  The  general 
want  of  appreciation  of  certain  musical  harmonies  on 
the  part  of  unc"dlized  peoples  is  undoubtedly  due  to  the 
neglect  of  the  St-nse  nerves  concerned,  for  these  are  not 
cultivated  except  to  a  small  extent  involuntarily.  The 
most  ignorant  and  poor  of  the  whites  unavoidably  come 
into  frequent  contact  with  the  simpler  forms  of  art, 
but  the  savage  races  see  only  the  result  of  their  own 
handiwork.  The  uncivilized  races  can  scarcely  be  ex- 
pected to  admire  the  higher  reaches  of  art  wherein  in- 
tellectual considerations  enter,  except  for  their  sensorial 
excellence. 


PLATE    28 


Automedon  and  the  Horse  of  Aehilles,  by  Regnault  (See  page  256) 

{Boston  Museum) 


Notes  335 

NOTE    50.       PAGE    139 

There  seems  to  be  some  uncertainty  as  to  whether 
Fragonard  intended  his  splendid  series  of  the  Frick 
collection  to  represent  the  subjects  usually  assigned  to 
them,  namely,  The  Pursuit  (or  The  Flight  of  Design,  a 
title  given  to  the  original  sketch  for  the  picture);  The 
Rendezvous  (or  The  Surprise,  or  The  Escalade) ;  Souve- 
nirs (or  Confidences,  or  The  Reader) ;  The  Lover  Crowned 
(or  Before  the  Painter);  and  The  Abandonment  (or 
The  Reverie) .  It  is  suggested  that  the  works  have  an 
allegorical  signification  connected  with  art,  and  certainly 
three  of  them — the  first,  second,  and  fourth — could  be  so 
interpreted.  But  magnificent  paintings  of  this  kind  are 
usually  fitted  for  many  allegorical  suggestions.  Each 
picture  represents  an  incident  of  common  experience, 
elaborated  with  beautiful  figures  in  a  perfect  setting. 
This  approaches  the  summit  of  the  painter's  art,  for  no 
conception  can  be  greater  apart  from  spiritual  ideals. 
It  is  symbolism  in  its  highest  form — of  imiversal  experi- 
ence in  which  all  are  interested.  The  works  are  not  to 
be  taken  as  a  necessary  sequence  (the  last  of  the  series 
was  painted  twenty  years  after  the  others),  but  the 
scheme  of  one  or  more  of  them  has  come  within  the 
experience  of  every  man  and  woman  since  the  world 
began. 

NOTE    51.      PAGE    149 

Seeing  that  this  precise  dignified  pose,  coming  so  near 
the  line  of  exaggeration,  but  never  crossing  it,  is  present 
in  all  the  authenticated  portraits  of  Titian,  save  those  of 
very  aged  persons,  we  may  reasonably  consider  the  pose 
an  important  factor  in  determining  the  validity  of  certain 
portraits  as  to  which  a  doubt  has  arisen.     Thus  in  the 


336  Notes 

case  of  the  Physician  of  Parma*  (this  title  is  admittedly 
wrong),  which  has  been  variously  given  to  Titian  and 
Giorgione,  the  verdict  must  be  in  favour  of  Titian,  for 
the  pose  is  certainly  his,  while  it  is  unknown  in  any  work 
of  Giorgione.  On  the  other  hand,  the  portrait  of  Cather- 
ine Cornara,''  commonly  ascribed  to  Titian,  but  also 
attributed  to  Giorgione,'^  cannot  be  by  the  former  master ; 
nor  is  the  Portrait  of  a  Man  (with  his  hand  on  a  bust),"^ 
which  seems  to  pair  with  the  Cornara  portrait.  The 
portrait  known  as  An  Old  Man  Asleep, «  sometimes  given 
to  Titian,  clearly  does  not  belong  to  him. 

It  should  be  noted  that  the  general  confusion  observ- 
able for  many  years  in  the  estimation  of  Giorgione's 
work  arose  from  the  attribution  to  him  of  paintings  exe- 
cuted in  the  comparatively  broad  manner  of  Titian, 
but  which  this  artist  did  not  adopt  till  Giorgione  had 
been  dead  for  a  decade  or  more.  The  recent  exhaustive 
critique  of  Lionelli  Venturis  of  the  earlier  master  has 
cleared  the  air,  and  we  now  know  the  range  of  his  work 
very  positively.  Giorgione  was  less  fine  in  some  of  his 
paintings  than  in  others,  for  he  paid  more  attention  to 
chiaroscuro  as  he  matured,  but  there  is  no  instance  where 
he  painted  in  the  broader  manner  occasionally  exhibited 
by  Titian.  All  the  works  in  the  style  of  The  Concert 
and  The  Three  Ages  are  now  known  to  be  by  other  hands 
than  those  of  Giorgione,  and  it  must  be  unfortunately 
admitted  that  not  a  single  painting  by  him  exists  either 
in  England  or  America. 

NOTE  52.      PAGE    156 

Hals  is  another  artist  as  to  whom  many  misconceptions 
have  arisen  in  regard  to  his  use  of  a  very  broad  manner  in 

a  Vienna  Gallery.  ^  Cook  Collection,  London, 

c  By  Herbert  Cook  in  Giorgione.       d  Uffizi  Gallery,  Florence, 
e  The  Brera,  Milan.  ^  Giorgione  e  il  Giorgionismo,  1913 


Notes  337 

his  portraits.  There  is  a  total  of  about  350  works  attrib- 
uted to  him,  of  which  some  two  thirds  are  single  por- 
traits, and  twenty  are  portrait  groups.  The  balance 
includes  over  thirty  genre  pictures,  mostly  with  single 
figures,  and  fifty  heads  of  boys  and  girls  generally  shown 
in  the  act  of  laughing.  It  is  in  his  genre  work  that 
the  broad  manner  is  mostly  observable,  and  only  very 
occasionally  is  it  to  be  found  in  his  portraits.  In  the 
more  important  works  of  the  artist,  even  during  his 
later  period,  his  manner  is  by  no  means  broad,*  though 
it  is  not  so  fine  as  in  his  best  years,  say  from  1635  to  1650. 
This  estimate  can  however  only  be  general,  as  his  dated 
paintings  of  different  periods  after  1630  often  correspond 
so  closely  that  it  is  difficult  to  assign  dates  to  the  other 
pictures  with  certainty. 

Perhaps  the  frequent  attribution  to  Hals  of  works  by 
his  pupils  and  imitators,  has  had  something  to  do  with 
the  public  estimation  of  the  breadth  of  his  manner.  This 
was  often  greatly  exaggerated  by  his  followers,  and 
many  portraits  are  given  to  him  which  he  could  not 
possibly  have  painted.  In  his  important  work  on  the 
artist.  Dr.  von  Bode  points  out  that  some  of  the  dupli- 
cates of  his  pictures  were  apparently  executed  by  his 
pupils,  but  these  are  not  separated  in  the  book.^  It  is  a 
simple  matter  to  divide  the  works  painted  by  Hals  from 
the  studio  copies  and  the  portraits  of  imitators.  His 
brushwork  and  impasto  were  quite  exceptional.  He 
had  a  firm  direct  stroke,  never  niggled  or  scumbled,  and 
his  loading  was  restrained  though  very  effective.  Quite 
naturally  his  pupils,  however  industrious  and  skilled, 

a  See  Stephanas  Gereardts,  Antwerp  Museum;  Isabella  Coymans, 
E.  Rothschild  Collection,  Paris;  Lady  with  a  Fan,  National  Gallery, 
London;  and  WilUam  van  Heythuysen,  Liechtenstein  Collection, 
Vienna. 

b  Frans  Hals:  his  Life  and  Work,  19 14. 


338  Notes 

could  not  closely  imitate  his  remarkable  freedom  in 
handling.  They  were  incapable  of  firm  decisive  strokes 
throughout  a  portrait,  and  endeavoured  to  overcome 
the  loading  difficulty  by  using  brushes  of  a  coarseness 
foreign  to  the  master  when  rendering  light  tones.  More- 
over Hals  was  nearly  perfect  in  drawing,  and  in  this  there 
are  usually  marked  defects  in  the  studio  copies. 

NOTE  53.      PAGE   161 

The  term  "grace"  as  applied  in  art  has  so  many  signi- 
fications that  it  is  difficult  to  deal  with  one  of  them  with- 
out confusion.  What  is  here  specially  referred  to  is  the 
grace  of  pose  designed  by  the  artist.  The  object  of  the 
portrait  painter  is  to  pose  his  sitter  so  that  the  grace 
indicated  shall  appear  natural  and  habitual,  a  feature 
as  important  now  in  the  appearance  of  women  as  it  was 
twenty-five  centuries  ago  when  Sappho  asked*: 

What  country  maiden  charms  thee, 

However  fair  her  face, 
Who  knows  not  how  to  gather 

Her  dress  with  artless  grace? 

But  the  grace  of  pose  never  appears  to  be  artless,  after 
the  first  inspection,  unless  there  is  something  in  the 
expression  to  hold  the  mind.  Without  this  appeal  to  the 
mind  the  portrait  must  soon  tire,  and  the  pose  become 
artificial  and  stiff,  that  is  to  say,  in  representations  of 
life  size,  for  in  miniature  portraiture  the  countenance 
seldom  or  never  crosses  the  vision  involuntarily. 

In  the  ancient  Greek  forms,  Winckelmann  distin- 
guishes four  kinds  of   grace — lofty,  pleasing,   himible, 

a  Free  translation  (quoted  by  Wharton),  the  term  "artless  grace" 
being  implied  but  not  expressed  by  Sappho. 


Notes  339 

and  comic — but  the  grace  exhibited  by  sculptured 
forms  necessarily  depends  upon  the  harmony  of  expres- 
sion, character  of  form,  and  pose.  This  should  be  the 
case  with  painted  portraits  also,  but  drapery  restrictions 
and  accessories  commonly  compel  a  limitation  in  the 
design  of  the  artist.  In  three  quarter  and  full  length 
portraits  it  is  impossible  to  depart  from  the  dress  custom- 
ary at  the  period  of  execution,  unless  the  sitter  assume 
a  classical  character,  and  this  is  only  possible  in  com- 
paratively few  instances.  In  any  case  the  pose  should 
always  be  subordinated  to  the  expression. 

NOTE  54.      PAGE    167 

The  remarkable  range  of  Raphael  in  expression  has 
been  commented  upon  by  many  critics,  and  practically 
all  agree  with  Lanzi  in  his  eloquent  summary*: 

There  is  not  a  movement  of  the  soul,  there  is  not  a  character 
of  passion  known  to  the  ancients  and  capable  of  being  expressed 
in  art,  that  he  (Raphael)  has  not  caught,  expressed,  and  varied  in  a 
thousand  diflferent  ways,  and  always  within  the  bounds  of  pro- 
priety. .  .  .  His  figures  are  passions  personified;  and  love,  hope, 
fear,  desire,  anger,  placability,  humility,  and  pride,  assume  their 
places  by  turns  as  the  subject  changes;  and  while  the  spectator 
regards  the  countenances,  the  air,  and  the  gestvu"es  of  the  figiu-es, 
he  forgets  that  they  are  the  work  of  art,  and  is  surprised  to  find 
his  own  feelings  excited,  and  himself  an  actor  in  the  scene  before 
him. 

NOTE  55.      PAGE    169 

This  Pompeian  fresco  is  supposed  to  be  a  copy  of  the 
picttire  of  Timanthes,  but  there  is  an  ancient  marble 
relief  of  the  same  subject  at  Florence,  the  design  of  which 
is  also  said  to  have  been  taken  from  the  Grecian  painter, 

a  History  of  Painting  in  Italy,  vol.  i.,  Roscoe  translation. 


340  Notes 

though  it  differs  considerably  from  the  fresco.  Quin- 
tilian  observes  as  to  the  work  of  Timanthes,  that  having 
rendered  Calchas  sad,  Ulysses  still  more  sad,  and  Mene- 
laus  with  the  deepest  expression  of  grief  possible  in  art, 
the  painter  could  not  properly  portray  the  countenance 
of  Agamemnon,  who  as  father  of  Iphigenia  was  presumed 
to  be  the  most  deeply  affected  of  all  present,  and  so 
covered  his  head,  leaving  the  intensity  of  his  suffering 
to  be  understood.^ 

NOTE  56.      PAGE   172 

The  authenticity  of  the  Boston  example  of  Mona 
Lisa  is  still  in  dispute.  So  far  no  serious  objection  to  it 
has  been  brought  forward,  and  there  are  certain  points 
in  its  favour,  as  the  presence  of  the  colimins  which  are 
reproduced  in  Raphael's  sketch,  and  the  bold  brushwork 
of  the  drapery  where  this  can  be  distinguished.  But 
there  is  another  example  of  the  work  in  existence,  and 
this  fact,  with  the  natural  hesitation  in  pronouncing 
definitely  on  so  important  a  matter,  will  probably  leave 
the  authenticity  of  the  picture  undecided  for  a  long  time. 
Meanwhile  the  literature  upon  Mona  Lisa  is  ever  in- 
creasing, and  some  important  facts  have  been  recently 
brought  out.  Amongst  these  is  an  announcement  by 
A.  C.  Coppier  that  the  lady  was  not  a  Florentine,  but  a 
Neapolitan  of  the  Gheradini  family,  and  that  she  was 
married  in  1495,  when  eighteen  years  of  age.^  She  would 
therefore  be  twenty-seven  years  old  in  1504  when  the 
picture  which  Raphael  sketched  is  supposed  to  have  been 
painted.  But  the  Mona  Lisa  in  the  Louvre  was  com- 
pleted between  1515  and  15 19;  hence  there  is  much  to 
ascertain  as  to  the  history  of  the  work. 

a  School  of  Oratory,  ii.  ^  Les  Arts,  No.  145,  1914. 


Notes  341 

NOTE  57.      PAGE   172 

The  various  suggestions  that  have  been  made  as  to 
the  meaning  of  Mona  Lisa's  smile,  seem  to  have  no  other 
foundation  than  the  fancies  of  mystic  minds.  The  smile 
has  been  called  dangerous,  sinister,  ambiguous,  provo- 
cative, purposely  enigmatic,  significant  of  a  loose  woman, 
expressive  of  sublime  motherhood,  reminiscent  of  Eastern 
intrigue,  and  so  on,  the  mildest  criticism  of  this  kind 
affirming  that  the  smile  will  ever  remain  an  enigma.  It 
is  of  course  impossible  for  any  meaning  to  be  put  into  a 
smile  by  the  painter,  other  than  that  of  pleasure.  Psy- 
chological suggestions  are  possible  with  the  poet  or 
novelist,  but  not  with  the  painter.  If  there  be  any 
enigma  or  mystery  in  a  picture,  then  the  art  is  bad,  for 
the  work  is  incomprehensible,  but  there  is  no  problem 
to  be  solved  in  Mona  Lisa's  smile.  It  is  not  different 
from  any  other  smile  except  in  degree,  and  of  course  in 
the  quality  appertaining  to  the  particular  countenance. 
Lionardo,  with  his  scientific  turn  of  mind,  was  not  likely 
to  attempt  the  impossible  by  trying  to  mix  psychology 
with  paint. 

NOTE  58.      PAGE  178 

It  is  necessary  to  dissent  from  the  conclusion  of  Lessing 
as  to  the  representation  of  ugliness  by  the  poet.  He  says 
in  referring  to  Homer's  portrayal  of  Thersites  * : 

Why  in  the  case  of  ugUness  did  he  adopt  a  method  from  which 
he  so  judiciously  refrained  in  that  of  beauty?  Does  not  a  suc- 
cessive enumeration  of  its  compound  parts  diminish  the  effect  of 
ugliness,  just  as  a  similar  enumeration  of  its  parts  destroys  that  of 
beauty?  Undoubtedly  it  does,  but  in  this  very  fact  lies  Homer's 
justification.    For  the  very  reason  that  ugliness  in  the  poet's  de- 

a  Laocoon,  Ronnfeldt  translation. 


342  Notes 

scription  is  reduced  to  a  less  repulsive  appearance  of  bodily  imper- 
fection, and  in  point  of  its  effect  ceases  as  it  were  to  be  ugliness, 
the  poet  is  enabled  to  make  use  of  it. 

It  is  true  that  as  he  cannot  present  a  particular  form  of 
beauty  by  description,  so  the  poet  cannot  describe  an 
ugly  countenance  in  such  a  way  that  it  may  be  pictured 
on  the  mind  as  a  whole ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  as  he  can, 
by  reference  to  its  effect,  or  by  imagery,  present  a  greater 
beauty  than  the  painter  can  portray,  so  he  may  by  similar 
means  suggest  a  more  hideous  form  of  ugliness.  And 
apart  from  this,  while  a  detail  in  the  description  of  a 
beautiful  countenance  is  immaterial  until  it  is  combined 
with  other  details,  a  detail  of  ugliness  may  in  itself  be 
sufficient  to  render  the  countenance  wholly  repulsive  to 
the  reader.  Thus,  if  one  said  of  a  maid  that  her  cheeks 
were  a  compound  of  the  lily  and  the  rose,  this  would  not 
necessarily  imply  that  she  was  generally  beautiful;  but 
if  it  were  said  of  a  man  that  he  had  a  large  bulbous  nose, 
we  should  consider  him  ugly  whatever  the  character  of 
his  other  features.  It  was  only  necessary  for  Milton  to 
refer  to  one  or  two  details  of  the  figure  of  Sin,  to  throw 
upon  our  minds  a  form  of  appalling  ugliness.^ 

A  successive  enumeration  of  its  component  parts,  does 
not  therefore  diminish  the  effect  of  ugliness,  as  Lessing 
claims,  but  increases  it.  On  the  other  hand  a  successive 
enumeration  of  the  parts  of  beauty  does  not  destroy  the 
beauty,  but  simply  fails  to  represent  it. 

The  poet  may  use  ugliness  where  the  painter  cannot, 
because  his  ugly  form  does  not  dominate  the  scene,  save 
for  an  instant  or  two,  being  quickly  subordinated  by 
surrounding  conditions  of  speech  and  action;  whereas 
the  ugly  figure  of  the  painter  is  fixed  for  ever.  Further, 
the  poet  may  surround  his  description  of  the  ugly  thing 

a  Paradise  Lost,  ii. 


Notes  343 

with  beautiful  imagery  and  lofty  sentiment,  practically 
hiding  the  ugliness  with  a  cloak  of  beauty;  but  the 
painter  can  only  depict  the  ugly  thing  as  it  is,  naked  to 
the  sight,  without  gloss  or  apology. 

NOTE    59.      PAGE      190 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  foot  of  Hercules  in  this 
fine  bronze  was  placed  upon  the  skull  of  an  ox  to  indicate 
a  successful  hunt,*  but  Hercules  was  a  demigod,  and  so 
could  not  be  connected  in  art  with  any  but  a  superhuman 
task  or  exploit.  Moreover  the  only  instance  recorded 
in  mythological  history  where  Hercules  fought  with  an 
ox  (unless  the  feat  of  strength  against  the  white  bull  of 
Augeas  be  called  a  fight),  is  that  of  the  Cretan  bull,  which 
was  captured  and  not  killed.  There  is  no  other  sculp- 
tured figure  now  known  where  a  foot  is  placed  on  the 
skull  of  an  ox,  but  Pausanias  records  that  he  saw  one 
in  a  temple  of  Apollo  at  Patrae,  the  figure  being  that  of 
the  god  himself.^  Pausanias  attributes  the  motive  of 
the  design  to  Apollo's  love  of  cattle.  There  is  no  doubt 
about  the  significance  of  the  Frick  bronze.  The  skull  of 
an  ox,  and  rams'  heads  are  frequently  found  on  ancient 
tombs,  and  acanthus  leaves  were  commonly  used  both  in 
Greece  and  Rome  as  funereal  signs,  while  the  base  of  the 
statuette,  which  is  cast  with  the  figure,  is  clearly  intended 
to  represent  an  altar.  It  is  noticeable  that  the  form  of 
acanthus  leaf  used  is  Roman,  suggesting  that  Pollaiuolo 
had  access  to  the  reproductions  of  tomb  inscriptions  made 
to  the  order  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici. 

There  is  apparently  no  other  existing  design  of  a  hero 
contemplating  death,  but  Lysippus  carved  several  fig- 
ures, now  lost,  of  Hercules  in  a  sad  or  depressed  mood. 

a  Bode's  Preface  to  the  Catalogue  of  the  Morgan  Bronzes. 
b  Pausanias,  vii. 


344  Notes 

In  the  most  celebrated  of  these,  the  demigod  was  seated 
in  a  thoughtful  attitude  on  a  lion's  skin,  and  it  is  possible 
that  this  design  was  connected  with  the  contemplation 
of  death,  because  it  was  produced  in  relief  soon  after  the 
time  of  Lysippus,  and  later  in  a  Pompeian  fresco,  in  both 
cases  in  the  presence  of  Lichas,  the  bearer  of  the  poisoned 
garment. 

NOTE  60.      PAGE   192 

The  attempt  of  Ruskin  to  raise  landscape  to  a  high 
level  in  the  art  of  the  painter  ^  need  scarcely  be  referred 
to  here,  so  completely  have  his  arguments  been  refuted 
elsewhere. 

The  authority  of  Alexander  Humboldt  has  been  some- 
times quoted  in  support  of  the  assertion  that  landscape 
can  appeal  to  the  higher  attributes,  the  passage  relied 
upon  affirming  that  descriptive  poetry  and  landscape 
painting  "are  alike  capable  in  a  greater  or  lesser  degree  of 
combining  the  visible  and  invisible  in  our  contemplation 
of  nature."  But  it  is  clear  from  the  whole  references  of 
the  writer  to  these  arts,  that  he  means  nothing  more  by 
his  statement  than  that  a  painting  or  descriptive  poem 
may,  like  an  actual  landscape,  induce  a  feeling  of  wonder 
at  the  powers  of  the  original  Cause  of  natiu-e.  The  opin- 
ion of  Humboldt  upon  the  position  of  landscape  paint- 
ing may  be  gathered  from  his  definite  observation  that  it 
has  "a  more  material  origin  and  a  more  earthly  limitation 
than  the  art  which  deals  with  the  human  form."*' 

NOTE  61.      PAGE  194 

It  is  doubtful  whether  an  artist  can  invent  a  form  of 
tree  which  does  not  exist  in  nature,  without  producing 
something  of  the  character  of  a  monstrosity.  From  the 
point  of  view  of  dimensions,  the  two  extreme  forms  of 

a  Modern  Painters,  vols  i.  and  ii.,  and  the  preface  to  the  second 
edition  of  the  work.  b  Cosmos,  vol.  ii. 


Notes  345 

trees  used  in  painting,  are  represented  in  Raphael's 
Madonna  with  the  Goldfinch  *  as  to  the  slender  forms,  and 
as  to  the  giant  trunks,  in  two  or  three  of  Claude's  pic- 
tures. The  very  beautiful  trees  of  Raphael  have  been 
often  regarded  as  pure  inventions,  and  Ruskin  was  actu- 
ally surprised  that  the  artist  did  not  delineate  the  "true 
form  of  the  trees  and  the  true  thickness  of  the  boughs  "  ;b 
but  as  a  matter  of  fact  precisely  similar  trees  (a  variety 
of  ash)  are  to  be  found  in  the  valleys  of  the  Apennines 
to  this  day.  All  the  change  that  Raphael  made  was  to 
transport  the  trees  from  a  sheltered  spot  to  an  open 
position.  Very  similar  trees  are  introduced  in  the  same 
master's  Apollo  and  Marsyas.*=  Perugino  was  the  first 
painter  to  use  them,  and  in  some  of  his  earlier  works  he 
made  them  of  great  height  ,<^  but  he  gradually  modified 
the  form  till  he  approached  the  perfect  symmetry  and 
delicacy  of  Raphael's  examples. «  Marco  Basaiti  intro- 
duced them  into  at  least  three  of  his  pictures,  and  they 
are  also  to  be  found  in  works  by  Timoteo  della  Viti  and 
Francia.^  Higher  and  equally  slender  trees  have  been 
appropriately  used  by  Antonio  della  Ceraiuolo,^  and  even 
by  so  late  a  painter  as  Nicholas  Poussin.^ 

NOTE  62.       PAGE   194 

In  noting  the  fact  that  the  great  landscape  artist 
invents  his  designs,  Byron  observes  that  nature  does  not 
furnish  him  with  the  scenes  that  he  requires,  and  adds': 

a  Uffizi  Gallery,  Florence.  b  Modern  Painters,  vol.  iv. 

c  The  Louvre. 

d  Baptism  of  Christ,  Perugia;  and  The  Crucifixion,  Florence. 

e  The  Deposition,  Pitti  Palace. 

^  Madonna  and  Child  in  a  Rose  Garden,  Munich. 

8  The  Crucifixion,  Florence  Academy. 

h  Diana  sleeps  in  the  Forest,  Prado,  Madrid. 

i  Art  and  Nature. 


346  Notes 

Nature  is  not  lavish  of  her  beauties;  they  are  widely  scattered, 
and  occasionally  displayed,  to  be  selected  with  care,  and  gathered 
with  difficulty. 

Had  Byron  been  a  painter,  he  would  have  known  that  the 
trouble  of  the  artist  is  due  to  the  over,  and  not  the  under, 
supply  of  beauty  by  nature.  The  artist  sees  the  beauty, 
but  cannot  identify  it  with  particular  signs,  and  so  has  to 
invent  a  scene  himself,  using  nature  only  for  sketches  or 
ideas. 

NOTE  63.      PAGE  200 

"  The  force  of  natural  signs, "  says  Lessing,  "consists  in 
their  resemblance  to  the  things  they  represent."*  In  a 
criticism  upon  the  second  part  of  Faust,  G.  H.  Lewes 
writes  ^ : 

The  forms  which  are  his  (the  artist's)  materials,  the  symbols 
which  are  his  language,  must  in  themselves  have  beauty  and  an 
interest  readily  appreciable  by  those  who  do  not  understand  the 
occult  meaning.  Unless  they  have  this  they  cease  to  be  art :  they 
become  hieroglyphs.     Art  is  picture  painting,  not  picture  writing. 

While  this  is  generally  true,  beauty  in  the  lesser  signs  of 
the  poet  is  of  greater  importance  than  in  those  of  the 
painter,  because  a  painting  is  looked  upon  direct  as  a 
whole,  while  a  poem  has  to  be  comprehended  in  its  parts 
before  it  can  be  properly  considered  as  a  whole. 

NOTE  64.      PAGE  203 

Although  those  of  the  fifteenth-century  artists  who 
treated  landscape  seriously  did  not  thoroughly  under- 
stand perspective,  yet  they  were  seldom  at  a  loss  in  repre- 
senting distance,  that  is,  in  the  clear  atmosphere  which 
they  invariably  used.     They  were  diffident  in  attempting 

a  Laocoon.  b  Life  of  Goethe,  2d  edition. 


Notes  347 

distance  with  unbroken  level  country,  and  till  quite  the 
end  of  the  century  there  is  no  instance  where  middle  and 
far  distance  are  shown  together,  even  with  the  assistance 
of  hilly  ground.  The  almost  invariable  practice  of  the 
leading  painters  who  made  landscape  a  feature  in  their 
works,  was  to  introduce  water  leading  back  from  the 
foregroimd,  so  that  breaks  therein  could  be  used  to 
indicate  distance.  More  or  less  numerous  jutting  forks 
of  low  lying  land  were  thrown  into  the  stream  from 
either  side,  this  plan  being  successfully  adopted  in  Italy,^ 
Flanders,**  and  Germany.  <= 

Early  in  the  sixteenth  century  much  improvement 
was  made  in  the  use  of  water  for  providing  distance,  and 
a  few  of  the  Venetian  painters  gave  some  consideration 
to  aerial  perspective,  but  the  most  perfect  example  of  this 
perspective  in  the  period  is  contained  in  an  early  work  of 
Raphael.*^  In  the  background  is  a  lake  extending  into  a 
gradually  deepening  haze,  and  in  this  a  boat  is  so  skil- 
fully placed  as  to  increase  considerably  the  apparent 
distance  to  the  horizon.  This  picture  is  a  distinct 
advance  upon  the  Venetian  distance  work  of  the  time.^ 
Later  on  in  the  century  an  artist  rarely  introduced  water 
into  a  view  specially  to  assist  in  producing  distance  by 
means  of  boats,  more  advanced  methods  being  adopted. 
Titian  used  simlight  effects  with  varying  shadows,^  or 

a  See  Piero  di  Cosimo's  Death  of  Procris,  National  Gallery,  Lon- 
don, and  Mars  and  Cupid,  Berlin. 

b  Van  Eyck's  Chancellor  Rollin  before  the  Virgin,  and  Bout's 
Adoration  of  the  Magi. 

c  Lucas  Moser's  Voyage  of  the  Saints  (1431),  Tiefenbroun,  Ger- 
many. 

d  Central  panel  in  a  triptych  of  the  Crucifixion,  Hermitage,  Petro- 
grad.  This  picture  has  been  sometimes  attributed  to  Perugino,  but 
it  is  unquestionably  from  the  hand  of  Raphael. 

e  See  Titian's  Jacopo  Pesaro  presented  to  St.  Peter,  Antwerp. 

i  Charles  V.  at  Muhlberg,  Madrid. 


348  Notes 

alternating  clear  and  wooded  ground.*  These  plans,  and 
the  use  of  water  with  the  addition  of  trees  and  low  hills, ^ 
constitute  the  chief  devices  to  be  found  in  the  late  six- 
teenth-century Italian  pictures.  Some  of  the  sun  effects 
rendered  for  distance  purposes  even  before  Titian's  best 
time  are  quite  effective,  though  formal.'' 

NOTE  65.       PAGE   204 

Lessing  apparently  overlooked  the  possibilities  of 
landscape  painting  in  his  dicttmi  as  to  progressive  actions. 
He  writes  ^ : 

If  painting  on  account  of  the  signs  and  means  of  imitation 
which  it  employs,  and  which  can  only  be  combined  in  space,  must 
entirely  renounce  time,  then  progressive  actions  cannot,  in  so  far  as 
they  are  progressive,  be  included  in  the  niunber  of  its  subjects,  but 
it  must  content  itself  with  coexistent  actions,  or  with  mere  bodies, 
which  on  account  of  their  position  cause  an  action  to  be  suspected. 

It  is  true  that  a  series  of  progressive  human  actions  can- 
not be  included  in  one  painting,  but  progressive  natural 
actions  can  be  so  included  when  the  progression  is  regular 
and  repeated  and  the  actions  are  clearly  separated  to 
the  eye.  Although  the  painter  can  only  depict  a  mo- 
ment of  time,  he  can  show  the  whole  progression,  which  is 
not  the  case  in  a  series  of  human  actions,  as  in  the  example 
quoted  by  Lessing,  of  Pandarus  arranging  his  bow,  open- 
ing his  quiver,  choosing  an  arrow,  and  so  on. 

Strange  to  say,  De  Quincey,  in  an  explanatory  note  to 
Lessing's  observations,  also  overlooks  the  movement  of 
water  broken  by  rocks,  though  he  refers  specially  to  land- 
scape painting.     He  says  ^: 

a  Meeting  of  Joachim  and  Anna,  Padua;  and  others. 

b  Bronzino's  Venus  and  Cupid,  Uffizi,  Florence. 

c  Schiavone's  Jupiter  and  lo.  Hermitage. 

d  Laocoon,  Phillimore  translation.  «  Essay  on  "Lessing." 


C       K 


O 


Notes  349 

In  the  succession  of  parts  which  make  up  appearance  in  nature, 
either  the  parts  simply  repeat  each  other  (as  in  the  case  of  a  man 
walking,  a  river  flowing,  etc.).  or  they  unfold  themselves  through 
a  cycle,  in  which  each  step  effaces  the  preceding,  as  in  the  case  of  a 
gun  exploding,  where  the  flash  is  swallowed  up  by  the  smoke 
effaced  by  its  own  dispersion. 

But  for  the  purpose  of  the  painter,  the  action  of  water 
breaking  over  ledges  and  boulders  does  not  correspond 
with  the  case  of  a  man  walking  or  a  river  flowing,  because 
the  series  of  events  forming  the  progression  in  the  case 
of  the  water  breaking,  cover  such  time  and  space  that  the 
events  can  be  distinctly  separated  by  the  eye.  Clearly 
also  this  action  should  not  be  included  in  De  Quincey's 
second  category,  because  the  repetition  is  both  regular 
and  (to  all  intents  and  purposes)  perpetual.  There 
should  therefore  be  a  third  category  to  comprise  those 
repeated  progressive  acts  in  which  the  events  can  be  so 
separated  by  the  eye  as  to  be  portrayed  on  canvas  in  the 
order  of  their  progression,  and  in  such  a  way  that  the 
whole  progression,  and  the  meaning  of  it,  are  at  once 
apparent. 

NOTE  66.       PAGE  208 

Professor  Clausen  relates  that  Whistler  told  him  that 
his  object  in  painting  nocturnes  was  to  try  and  exhibit 
the  "mystery  and  beauty  of  the  night."  It  is  obvious 
that  Whistler  was  here  confusing  psychological  with 
visual  impressions.  The  depth  of  gloom,  the  apparently 
limitless  dark  void  which  the  eye  cannot  penetrate,  mean 
mystery  in  a  sense,  because  we  can  never  accustom  our- 
selves to  the  suggestion  of  infinity  involved  in  something 
which  is  boundless  to  the  senses.  A  sensation  of  the 
sublime  may  consequently  arise,  and  this  means  beauty 
in  a  psychological  sense.  But  we  are  considering  art 
and  not  psychology.     Where  nothing  is  distinguished,  no- 


350  Notes 

thing  can  be  painted,  and  if  there  be  sufficient  light  for 
objects  to  be  determined,  there  can  be  no  mystery  for 
the  painter.  If  he  be  desirous  of  representing  Night,  he 
must  follow  the  example  of  Michelangelo  and  symbolize  it. 
It  is  curious  that  since  the  death  of  Whistler,  a  picture 
entitled  Mysteries  of  the  Night  has  been  painted  by 
another  American  artist — J.  H.  Johnston.  A  figure  of  a 
beautiful  nude  woman  is  standing  on  a  rocky  shore  in  a 
contemplative  attitude,  with  the  moonlight  thrown  upon 
her.  The  design  is  excellent,  but  the  realistic  modelling 
of  the  figure  effectually  kills  any  suggestion  of  mystery. 

NOTE  67.      PAGE  231 

Vasari  mentions  that  Michelangelo,  though  admir- 
ing the  colour  and  manner  of  Titian  regretted  that  the 
Venetian  painters  did  not  pay  more  attention  to  drawing 
in  their  studies.*     In  quoting  this,  Reynolds  observed'': 

But  if  general  censure  was  given  to  that  school  from  the  sight 
of  a  picture  by  Titian,  how  much  more  heavily  and  more  justly 
would  the  censure  fall  on  Paolo  Veronese,  and  more  especially  on 
Tintoretto. 

Reynolds  himself  rightly  excluded  Titian  when  he  con- 
demned the  later  Venetian  painters  of  the  Renaissance 
for  their  exaggeration  of  colour,  and  no  doubt  Titian  was 
also  exempted  by  J.  A.  Symonds  in  his  trenchant  criti- 
cism of  the  work  of  this  school.  When  dealing  with  the 
decline  of  Lesbian  poetry  after  the  brilliant  period  of 
Sappho,  he  wrote<=: 

In  this  the  Lesbian  poets  were  not  imlike  the  Provengal 
troubadours,  who  made  a  literature  of  love,  or  the  Venetian  paint- 
ers, who  based  their  art  on  the  beauty  of  colour,  the  voluptuous 

a  Life  of  Titian.  b  Reynolds's  Fourth  Discourse, 

c  Studies  of  the  Greek  Poets,  vol.  i. 


Notes  351 

charms  of  the  flesh.  In  each  case  the  motive  of  enthusiastic  pas- 
sion sufficed  to  produce  a  dazzling  result.  But  as  soon  as  its  fresh- 
ness was  exhausted  there  was  nothing  left  for  art  to  live  on,  and 
mere  decadence  to  sensuality  ensued. 

NOTE  68.      PAGE  232 

Sir  George  Beaumont  relates  of  Reynolds^: 

On  his  return  from  his  second  tour  over  Flanders  and  Holland, 
he  observed  to  me  that  the  pictures  of  Rubens  appeared  much  less 
brilliant  than  they  had  done  on  his  former  inspection.  He  could 
not  for  some  time  account  for  this  little  circumstance;  but  when 
he  recollected  that  when  he  first  saw  them  he  had  his  notebook 
in  his  hand  for  the  purpose  of  writing  down  short  remarks,  he 
perceived  what  had  occasioned  their  now  making  a  less  impression 
than  they  had  done  formerly.  By  the  eye  passing  immediately 
from  the  white  paper  to  the  picture,  the  colours  derived  uncommon 
richness  and  warmth;  but  for  want  of  this  foil  they  afterwards 
appeared  comparatively  cold. 

NOTE  69.      PAGE  249 

Rodin  ^  observes  that  in  giving  movement  to  his  per- 
sonages, the  artist 

represents  the  transition  from  one  pose  to  another — he  indicates 
how  insensibly  the  first  glides  into  the  second.  In  his  work  we 
still  see  a  part  of  what  was,  and  we  discover  a  part  of  what  is  to 
be. 

Rodin  points  to  Rude's  fine  statue  of  Marshal  Ney, 
and  practically  says  that  here  the  illusion  is  created  by  a 
series  of  progressive  actions  indicated  in  the  attitude: 
the  legs  remaining  as  they  were  when  the  sword  was 
about  to  be  drawn,  and  the  hand  still  holding  the  scab- 
bard away  from  the  body,  while  the  chest  is  being 
thrown  out  and  the  sword  held  aloft.     Thus  the  sculptor 

a  Cunningham's  Lives  of  the  British  Painters. 

b  Art,  by  Auguste  Rodin,  compiled  by  Paul  Gsell,  19 16. 


352  Notes 

compels,  so  to  speak,  the  spectator  to  follow  the  development  of 
an  act  in  an  individual.  The  eyes  are  forced  to  travel  upwards 
from  the  lower  limbs  to  the  raised  arm,  and  as  in  so  doing  they 
find  the  different  parts  of  the  figure  represented  at  succes- 
sive instants,  they  have  the  illusion  of  beholding  the  movement 
performed. 

Rodin  himself  has  followed  a  similar  course  with  much 
success.  The  ancient  Greek  sculptors,  when  represent- 
ing a  figure  in  action,  invariably  chose  a  moment  of  rest 
between  two  progressive  steps  in  the  action.  The 
Discobolus  and  Marsyas  of  Myron,  and  particularly  the 
Atalanta  in  the  Louvre,  are  fine  examples. 

NOTE   70.       PAGE   250 

Mengs,  in  referring  to  the  arrangement  of  the  drapery 
in  Raphael's  figtires,  says*: 

With  him  every  fold  has  its  proper  cause;  either  in  its  own 
weight  or  in  the  motion  of  the  limbs.  Sometimes  the  folds  enable 
us  to  tell  what  has  preceded;  herein  too  Raphael  has  endeav- 
oured to  find  significance.  It  can  be  seen  by  the  position  of  the 
folds,  whether  an  arm  or  a  leg  has  been  moved  forwards  or  back- 
wards into  the  attitude  which  it  actually  occupies ;  whether  a  limb 
has  been,  or  is  being,  moved  from  a  contracted  position  into  a 
straightened  one,  or  whether  it  was  extended  at  first  and  is  being 
contracted. 

NOTE  71.      PAGE   258 

Besides  assisting  in  providing  an  illusion,  the  title  of  a 
picture  may  lend  great  additional  interest  to  it.  Thus  in 
Millet's  The  Angelus  the  associations  called  up  by  the 
title  act  most  powerfully  on  the  mind,  and  one  almost 
listens  for  the  sound  of  the  bell.t-     A  work  of  a  similiar 

a  The  Works  of  Anton  Raphael  Mengs,  vol.  ii.,  D'Azara  translation, 
b  The  Louvre. 


Notes  353 

character  is  Bonvin's  Ave  Maria,  where  the  nuns  of  a  con- 
vent are  answering  the  call^;  and  Horace  Walker  has  a 
picture  with  the  same  title,  in  which  a  boy  who  is  driving 
cattle,  stops  in  front  of  a  Crucifix  by  the  wayside^.  An 
excellent  example  of  this  added  interest  is  the  title  of 
Turner's  great  picture  of  the  Temeraire,''  as  to  which 
R.  Phillimore  writes"^: 

It  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  the  picture  of  an  old  man-of-war 
towed  by  a  steam  tug  up  a  river.  The  execution  of  such  a  subject 
may  deserve  great  praise  and  give  great  satisfaction  to  the  beholder. 
But  add  to  the  representation  the  statement  that  it  is  "The  fighting 
Temeraire  towed  to  her  last  berth,"  and  a  series  of  the  most  stirring 
events  of  our  national  history  fills  our  imagination. 

NOTE  72.      PAGE  261 

There  is  an  antique  sculptured  group  in  the  Vatican  in 
which  a  precisely  similar  figure  of  the  son  of  Niobe  has 
his  left  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  his  sister  who  has  fallen 
to  her  knees  from  the  effect  of  a  woimd,  and  it  is  very 
reasonably  suggested  that  the  Florence  figure  originally 
formed  part  of  a  like  group.  But  the  explanation  of  the 
act  given  by  Perry  ^  and  others,  that  the  drapery  was 
raised  by  the  brother  to  shield  the  girl,  will  scarcely  hold 
good,  as  the  folds  are  spread  out  at  the  back,  forming  a 
concavity,  whereas  they  would  fall  loosely  if  the  youth 
were  resting.  Apart  from  this,  his  legs  are  widely  sepa- 
rated, and  in  a  running  position.  It  may  therefore  be 
surmised  that  in  the  Vatican  group  the  artist  intended 
to  represent  the  precise  moment  when  the  fleeing  youth 
reached  his  sister. 

aThe  Luxembourg.  b  Corcoran  Gallery,  Washington, 

c  National  Gallery,  Lx^ndon. 
d  Preface  to  translation  of  Lessing's  Laocoon. 
e  Greek  and  Roman  Sculpture. 
33 


354  Notes 

NOTE  73.      PAGE  270 

It  is  curious  that  among  the  countless  pictures  of  the 
Annunciation,  in  very  few  indeed  has  surprise  been 
expressed  in  the  countenance  and  attitude  of  the  Virgin, 
though  it  is  impossible  to  imagine  an  incident  more 
properly  calling  for  profound  astonishment  on  the  part 
of  the  principal  personage  in  a  composition,  even  in  the 
absence  of  startling  miraculous  accessories  such  as  that 
introduced  by  Rossetti.  Probably  the  reason  for  this  is 
connected  with  the  difficulty  of  expressing  great  surprise 
unaccompanied  with  some  other  feeling,  as  pleasure,  or 
sorrow,  or  fear,  but  there  does  not  seem  to  be  any  cause 
why  an  exalted  joyful  excitement  should  not  be  exhibited. 
Mrs.  Jameson  thinks  that  the  Virgin  should  not  appear 
startled,  as  She  was  "accustomed  to  the  perpetual  minis- 
try of  Angels  who  daily  and  hourly  attended  on  Her,"^ 
but  it  is  questionable  whether  this  can  be  properly 
assumed  by  the  artist,  and  in  any  case  from  the  point  of 
view  of  art,  the  action  should  correspond  with  the  nature 
of  the  event  as  it  is  generally  understood.  Of  the  few 
masters  who  have  indicated  surprise  in  an  Annunciation 
pictu/e,  Tintoretto  has  gone  the  farthest.  He  shows 
the  Virgin  with  Her  lips  parted,  and  both  hands  held  up, 
evidently  with  astonishment,^  an  example  followed  by 
Paris  B  or  done. '^  Raphael  in  an  early  pictiu-e  represents 
Her  holding  up  one  hand,  but  the  attitude  might  signify 
the  reception  of  an  announcement  of  importance."^  Pe- 
rugino  shows  Her  with  both  hands  raised,  but  other- 
wise She  appears  unconcerned. «  A  few  other  artists, 
including  Venusti  and  Foppa,  and  among  modern  men, 

a  Legends  of  the  Madonna.  b  Scuolo  di  San  Rocco,  Venice, 

c  Sienna  Gallery.  ^  The  Vatican, 

e  Santa  Maria  Nouvo,  Perugia. 


Notes  355 


Girodet,  adopt  Raphael's  method  of  composition.     Ru- 
bens goes  a  step  farther,  and  represents  the  Virgin  ap- 
parently standing  back  with  surprise,  though  this  is  only 
faintly  suggested  by  the  facial  expression.* 
a  Vienna  Gallery. 


INDEX    OF    SCULPTORS,    PAINTERS,    AND 
WORKS  OF  ART 

Note. — The  Schools  to  which  the  earher  ItaHan  painters  belonged 
are  given  in  brackets. 


Adam,  Franz,  1815-1886,  Ger- 
man— Bavarian  Regiment  be- 
fore Orleans,  257 

Aivasovsky,  I.  K.,  18 17-1900, 
Russian,  205 

Albani,  Francesco,  1578- 1660, 
Italian,  163;  Toilet  of  Venus, 
118 

AlbertineUi,  Mariotto,  1467- 
15 1 2,  Italian  [Florentine] — 
The  Salutation,  243 

Alcamenes,  fifth  century  B.C., 
Greek,  304 

Altdorfer,  A.,  1480  (c.)-i538, 
German — The   Nativity,    268 

Aman,  Jean,  i860-,  French — 
Sorbonne  panels,  254 

Ancher,  Anna  K.,  1859-,  Danish 
—The  Funeral,  189 

Andreani,  A.,  1540-1623, Italian, 

257 
Angelico,     Fra     (Giovanni     da 

Fiesole),     1387-1455,    Italian 

[Florentine],  17,  loi 
Antico    (Pier   Giacomo    Ilario), 

worked  late    15th  and   early 

i6th  century,  Italian,  326 
Antonella  da  Messina,  142 1  (c.)- 

1493,      ItaHan      [Venetian] — 

Crucifixion,  243 
Antonio    del    Ceraiolo,    worked 

first    half    sixteenth    century, 

Italian  [Florentine],  345 
Apelles,    fourth     century     B.C., 


Greek,  10,  44 — Venus  Ana- 
dyomene,  113,  330;  Plate  4, 
Alexander  in  the  character  of 
Jupiter,  209 
Avercamp,  Hendrick  van,  1585- 
1663,  Dutch,  292 


B 


Bartolommeo  da  Bagnacavallo 
(Bart.  Ramenghi),  1484-1542, 
Italian  [Bolognese] — Holy 
Family,  103 

Bartolommeo,  Fra  (Baccio  della 
Porta,  or  Bart,  di  Pagholo), 
1475-15 1 7>  Italian  [Floren- 
tine]— Adoration  of  the  Shep- 
herds, 265 

Bartolozzi,  Francesco,  1725- 
1815,  Italian,  164 

Basaiti,  Marco,  died  after  1521, 
Italian  [Venetian] — The  Dead 
Christ,  93;  Calling  of  the 
Children  of  Zebedee,  93; 
Christ  on  the  Mount  of 
Olives.  243 

Baschenis,  Evaristo,  161 7-1677, 
Italian,  247 

Battistello  (Giovanni  Battista 
Caracciolo),  1 580-1 641,  Ital- 
ian, 17 — Adoration  of  the 
Shepherds,  271 

Bellano,  Bartolommeo,  1430- 
1498,  327 

Benjamin-Constant,  J.  J.,  1845- 
1902,  French,  184 


357 


358    Index  of  Sculptors  and  Painters 


Benoit-Levy,  Jules,  1866-, 
French — Morning  of  July  4, 
1789,  253 

Berghem, Nicholas  (or  Berchem), 
1620-1683,  Dutch,  47,  292 

Bernadino  da  Conti,  died  1525, 
Italian  [Venetian] — Virgin 
and  Child,  245 

Bernini,  G.  L.,  1598-1669,  Ital- 
ian, 31.  33 

Berritini,  Pietro,  1596- 1669, 
Italian,  31 

Bertoldo  di  Giovanni,  1420  (c.)- 
149 1,  Italian,  327 

Bischop,  C,  1630-1674,  Dutch, 
292 

Blyhooft,  Z.,  1622  (c.)-i698, 
Dutch,  292 

Boecklin,  A.,  182 7-1 901,  Ger- 
man, 208 — Vita  Somnium 
breve,  180;  Pieta,  170 

Boltraffio,  G.  A.,  1467-1516, 
Italian  [Milanese] — Virgin 
and  Child,  103 

Bonfiglio,  Benedetto,  1420-1496 
(c.)  ItaUan  [Perugian] — Virgin 
and  Child,  103 

Bonheur,  Rosa,  1822- 1899, 
French — Ploughing  in  Niver- 
nois,  256 

Bordone,  Paris,  1500-1570,  Ital- 
ian [Venetian] — Annuncia- 
tion, 354 

Both,  Andries,  1609-1644, 
Flemish,  47 

Both,  Jan,  1610  (c.)-i652, 
Flemish,  47 

Botticelli,  Sandro  (Alessandro  di 
Mariano  dei  Filippi),  1444- 
1510,  Itahan  [Florentine]  96 
— Pieta,  169;  Nativity,  269; 
Reposing  Venus,  117;  Athena 
and  the  Centaur,  124 
Boucher,  Frangois,  1 704-1 770, 
French — Louvre  Portrait,  173; 
Sleeping  Venus,  118;  Birth  of 
Venus,  268 
Bough,  S.,  1 822-1 878,  British— 

Borrowdale,  204 
Bouguereau,  A.  W.,   182  5- 1905, 
French — Assumption    of    the 
Virgin,  267;  Une  ame  au  Ciel, 


267;  Birth  of  Venus,  115; 
Aurora,  271;  Twilight,  271; 
The  Lost  Pleiad,  269 

Bouts,  Dirk,  1400-1475,  Flem- 
ish— Adoration  of  the  Magi, 
347 

Braquemond,  J.  F.,  1833-, 
French,  285 

Bramantino  (Bartolommeo  Su- 
ardi),  i468-(c.)i530,  Italian 
[Milanese] — Christ,  93;  Vir- 
gin and  Child,  103 

Breton,  Jules,  1 827-1906, 
French — Cry  of  Alarm,  253 

Breughel,  Jan,  1569-1642,  Flem- 
ish, 46 

Breughel,  Pieter,  1 528-1 569, 
Flemish,  90 

Bril,  Paul,  1554-1626,  Flemish,  46 

Bronzino  (Angelo  Allori),  1502- 
1572,  Italian  [Florentine] — 
Venus  and  Cupid,  348 

Brown,  Arnesby,  1866-,  British 
— The  Drove,  257 

Burne-Jones,  E.  B.,  1833-1898, 
British — Annunciation,  270; 
Golden  Stairs,  252;  Dies 
Domini,  93 


C 


Cabanel,    Aexandre,  1823-1889, 
French — Venus  Anadyomene, 

^^5  . 

Calamis,     fifth     century     B.C., 

Greek,  9 
Canal  etto      (Antonio     Canale), 

1697-1768,  Italian,  47 
Canova,     Antonio,     1757-1822, 

Italian — L'Amour  et  Psyche, 

191 
Cappelle,  Jan  van  de,  i624(c.)- 

1679,  Dutch,  46 
Carracci,   Agostino,    1558-1601, 

Italian,  31 
Carracci,   Annibale,    1560- 1609, 

Italian,  31 
Carracci,  Ludovico,   1555-16 19, 

Italian,  31 
Caravaggio,    M.    (Michelangelo 

Amerighi),     1569- 1609,    Ital- 
ian, 17,  246 


Index  of  Sculptors  and  Painters    359 


Cavalori,  Mirabello,  middle  six- 
teenth century,  Italian  [Flor- 
entine]— The  Carpet  Weavers, 
252 

CelUni,  Benvenuto,  1500-1571, 
Italian   17,  323 

Cephisodostos,  early  fourth  cen- 
tury B.C.,  Greek — Irene  and 
Pluto,  1 01 

Cezanne,  Paul,  1839- 1906, 
French,  37,  288 

Chardin,  J.  S.,  1699-1779, 
French,  173,  247 

Chartier,  H.,  1870  (c.)-,  French 
— Jena,  256;  Hanan,  256 

Chase,  W.  M.,  1849-1916,  Ameri- 
can— Master  Roland,  165 

Cignani,  Carlo,  1628-1719, 
Italian,  32,  164 

Cimabue,  Giovanni,  1240  (c.)- 
1302,  Italian  [Florentine]  92, 
95.  283 — Virgin  and  Child,  loi 

Cipriani,  G.  B.,  1727-1785, 
Italian,  164 

Claude  Lorraine  (Claude  Gel^e), 
1600-1682,  French,  17,  30, 
47.  195.  198,  201,  283 — Ar- 
cadian Landscape,  Plate  17 

Clausen,  George,  1852-,  British, 
284,  349 

Cogniet,  L.,  1 794-1 880,  French 
— Tintoretto  Painting  his 
Dead  Daughter,  191 

Colton,  W.  R.,  1 867-,  British- 
Royal  Artillery  Memorial,  253 

Constable,  John,  1776-1837, 
British,  48,  195,  208 

Copley,  J.  S.,  1737-1815,  Ameri- 
can— Death  of  Chatham,  190 

Corenzio,  BelUsario,  1588  (c.)- 
1643,  Greek,  17 

ComeHus,  Peter,  1 783-1 867, Ger- 
man— Let  there  be  Light,  267 

Correggio  (Antonio  AUegri), 
1494-1534,  Italian  [Parma], 
43.  69,  102,  108,  142  — Vice, 
179;  Virtue,  179;  Mercury 
instructing  Cupid,  130;  Ma- 
donna and  Child  with  Saints 
(Parma),  268;  Parma  frescoes, 
229 

Costa,  Lorenzo,  1460-1535,  Ital- 


ian [Ferrarese] — Coronation  of 
the  Virgin,  102;  Cupid  crown- 
ing Isabella  d'Este,  225 

Cosway,  Richard,  1742- 1 82 1, 
British,  164 

Cot,  P.  A.,  1837-1883,  French— 
The  Storm,  210 

Courbet,  G.,  1819-1877,  French 
— Funeral  at  Ornans,  189 

Coypel,  Antoine,  1661-1742, 
French,  163 

Coypel,  Noel,  1628-1707, 
French,  163 

Crivelli,  Carlo,  1440  (c.)-l496, 
Italian  (Venetian) — Corona- 
tion of  the  Virgin,  264 

Crome,  John,  1769-182 1,  Bri- 
tish, 208 

Cuyp,  Albert,  1605-1691,  Dutch, 
203,  245 


D 


Dalsgaard,  Christen,  1824-, 
Danish— The  Child's  Coffin, 
189 

Damophon,  second  century  B.C., 
Greek,  122 

Danby,  F.,  1793-1861,  British, 
209 

Dehodencq,  E.  A.,  1822- 1882, 
French — Bohemians  return- 
ing from  a  F^te,  253 

Delacroix,  E.  V.  E.,  1798-1863, 
French,  278 

Delaroche,  Paul  (Hippolyte  De- 
laroche),  1797-1856,  French — 
Death  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  190 

Demont-Breton,  V.,  1859-, 
French — The  Divine  Appren- 
tice, 321 

Diaz,  N.,  1807-1876,  French — 
Descent  of  the  Bohemians,  253 

Dolci,  Carlo,  1616-1686,  Italian 
— Christ  Blessing,  175 

Domenichino  (Domenico  Zam- 
pieri),  1581-1641,  Italian,  19 
—St.  Cecilia,  176;  St.  Paul's 
Vision,  265 

Donatello  (Donato  di  Betto 
Bardi),  I385(c.)-I466,  Italian, 
30,  loi,  108,  325 


360    Index  of  Sculptors  and  Painters 


Doomer,  Lambert,  i647(c.)-i694, 
Dutch,  292 

Dore,  Gustave,  1832-1883, 
French — Creation  of  the 
Earth,  265;  Samson  Slaying 
the  Philistines,  252 

Dossi,  Dosso,  1479-1552,  Italian 
[FerrareseJ — Muse  instructing 
a  Court  Poet,  175;  Nymph 
and  Sat5T,  175 

Dow,  Gerard,  1613-1675,  Dutch, 
46,  248 — The  Dentist,  176 

Duccio,  Boninsegna  di,  i26o(c.)- 
1340,  Italian  [Siennese],  280 
— Madonna  and  Child,  loi 

Dumont,  Jacques  (Le  Remain), 
1701-1781,  French — Madame 
Mercier  and  Family,  173 

Durer,  Albrecht,  1474-1528, 
German,  45 — The  Virgin  with 
a  Canary,  264 

Dyce,  William,  1806-1864,  Bri- 
tish— St.  John  leading  the 
Virgin  from  the  Tomb,  245 


E 


Eakins,  Thomas,  1844- 19 16, 
American — Dr.  Cross's  Surgi- 
cal Clinic,  185 

Emmet,  Lydia,  1866-,  American 
— Patricia,  247,  Plate  23 

Ercole  di  Roberti  (E.  di  R. 
Grandi),  1470  (c.)-i53i,  Ital- 
ian [Ferrarese] — The  Concert, 

175 
Everdingen,  E.  van,  1612-1675, 
Dutch,  204 


F 


Falconet,  P.  E.,  1741-1791, 
French,  169 

Ferrari,  Gaudenzio,  1484-1549, 
Italian  [Milanese] — Madonna 
and  Child,  173 

Ferri^  C,  1634-1689,  Italian — 
David  plans  a  Temple,  268 

Feuerbach,  A.,  1828-1880,  Ger- 
man— Medea,  170 

Filarete  (Antonio  Averlino), 
(c.)  1399-1470,  Italian,  327 


Flaxman,  John,  1 755-1 826,  Bri- 
tish, 130 

Fontana,  B.  (G.  B.  Farinati), 
1 532- 1 592,  Italian — Vision  of 
Resurrection,  267 

Foppa,  Vincenzo,  1427  (?)-i5i5, 
Italian  [Milanese] — Annuncia- 
tion, 354 

Fragonard,  J.  H.,  1732-1806, 
French,  43,  283 — The  Pursuit, 
139;  The  Rendezvous,  335; 
Souvenirs,  335;  The  Lover 
Crowned,  335;  The  Abandon- 
ment, 335;  Venus  Awakened 
by  Aurora,  118 

Francesco  da  Cotignola  (F.  dei 
Zaganelli),  worked  early  six- 
teenth century,  Italian  [Par- 
ma]— Adoration  of  the  Shep- 
herds, 265 

Francia  (Francesco  Raibolini), 
1 450-1 5 1 7,  Italian  [Bolog- 
nese]  ,  332 — Madonna  and 
Child  in  Glory,  266;  Madonna 
and  Child  in  a  Rose  Garden, 

345 
Fries,     Hans,    (c.)      1450-1520, 

German — Virgin    and     Child 

with  St.  Anne,  103 
Frith,  W.  P.,  1819-1909,  British 

— Poverty  and  Wealth,  178 
Fromentin,       E.,       1820- 1886, 

French,      185 — Couriers     des 

Ooled  Nayls,  257 


G 


Gaddi,  Taddeo,  1300-1366,  Ital- 
ian [Florentine],  280 

Gainsborough,  T.,  1727-1788, 
British,  160 — Mrs.  Leybourne, 
174;  Lady  Sheffield,  174 

Genga,  Girolamo,  1476-1551, 
Italian.  Magdalene  with 
Saints,  266 

G^ricault,  Jean  Louis,  1791- 
1824,  French — Epsom,  257 

Ghiberti,  Lorenzo,  1381-1455, 
Italian,  324 

Ghirlandaio,  Domenico,  1449- 
1494,  Italian  [Florentine],  30, 
96 — Old  Man  and  Boy,  151; 


Index  of  Sculptors  and  Painters    361 


Ghirlandaio — Continued 

Birth  of  St.  John  Baptist,  251 ; 
Death  of  St.  Francis,  144 

Ghirlandaio,  Ridolfo,  1483-1560, 
Italian  [Florentine] —  Ma- 
donna giving  her  girdle  to  St. 
Thomas,  265 

Gilbert,  John,  1817-1897,  Brit- 
ish— Slaying  of  Job's  Sheep, 
209 

Giordano,  Luca,  1632-1705, 
Italian,  32 

Giorgio,  Francesco  di,  1439- 
1502,  Italian  [Siennese] — 
Christ  bereft  of  His  clothes 
before  the  Crucifixion,  93 

Giorgione  (Giorgio  Barbarelli), 
1 47  7- 1 5 1  o,  Italian  [  Venetian] , 
278,  283,  336 — Adrastus  and 
Hysipyle,  210,  225;  The  Sleep- 
ing Venus,  1 16 

Giotto  (Giotto  di  Bondone), 
I267(c.)-i337,  Italian  [Floren- 
tine], 95,  108,  280,  283 — 
Madonna  and  Child,  lOi 

Giovanni  di  Bologna  (Jean  de 
Douai),  1524-1608,  French  or 
Flemish,  323 — Mercury,  129 

Girodet  de  Roncy,  A.  L.,  1767- 
1842,  French — Burial  of  Atala, 
191;  Annunciation,  355 

Girolamo  da  Libri,  1472-1555, 
Italian  [Venetian] — Virgin 
and  Child,  244 

Gouthi^re,  Pierre,  1 740-1806, 
French,  323 

Goyen,  Jan  van,  1596-1656, 
Dutch — View  of  The  Hague, 

195 

Granacci,  Francesco,  1477-1544, 
Italian  [Florentine]  —  The 
Virgin  giving  her  girdle  to  St. 
Thomas,  267 

Grant,  Francis,  1803-1878,  Brit- 
ish— Countess  of  Chesterfield 
and  Mrs.  Anson,  245 

Greco,  El  (Dominico  Theoto- 
copuli),  I547(c.)-i6i4,  Greek, 

19 

Grien,  Hans  Baldung,  1480- 
1545 1  German — The  Three 
Ages,  180;  Sacred  and  Profane 


Love,  182;  Pictures  represent- 
ing Death,  186 

Gros,  A.  J.,  1771-1835,  French 
— The  Combat  of  Nazareth, 
256;  Timoleon  of  Corinth,  170 

Guardi,  Francesco,  1712-1793, 
Italian — Regatta  on  the 
Grand  Canal,  252 

Guercino  (G.  F.  da  Cento), 
1590-1666,  Italian — Martyr- 
dom of  St.  Peter,  265 

Gutherz,  C,  1844-1907,  Swiss — 

"They  shall  bear  thee  up,"  267 


H 


Hacker,  A.,  1858-,  British — 
The  Cry  of  Egypt,  170 

Hals,  Franz,  1580-1666,  Dutch, 
155,  248,  336— The  Laughing 
Cavalier,  177;  Stephanus  Ger- 
eardts,  337 ;  Isabella  Coymans, 
337;  Lady  with  a  Fan,  337; 
Willem  van  Heythuysen,  337; 
Merry  Company  at  Table,  175 

Hanneman,  Adrian,  1611-1680, 
Dutch — Constantine  Huygens 
and  Children,  248 

Heim,  P.  J.,  1787-1865,  French, 
184 

Henneberg,  R.  F.,  1825-1876, 
German — Race  for  Fortune, 
187 

Hobbema,  M.,  1638-1709, 
Dutch,  46,  49,  202 — Land- 
scape, Plate  18 

Hoet,  G.,  1648-1733,  Dutch — 
Translation  of  Enoch,  269 

Hogarth,  W.,  1697-1764,  British, 
225,  282 

Holbein,  Hans,  1497-1543,  Ger- 
man, 283 — The  Barber  Sur- 
geons, 220;  Holy  Family,  103; 
The  Ambassadors,  40,  157; 
Virgin  and  Child,  263 

Homer,  Winslow,  1836-1910, 
American — All's  Well,  176; 
Plate  15 

Hoppner,  John,  1758-18 10,  Brit- 
ish, 161 

Humphrey,  Ozias,  1742-18 10, 
British,  164 


362    Index  of  Sculptors  and  Painters 


Hunt,  W.  H.,  1827-1910,  British 
— Shadow  of  the  Cross,  321; 
The  Scapegoat,  227 


Ingres,  J.  A.  D.,  1 780-1 867, 
French — Oath  of  Louis  XIII. , 
264;  (Edipus  and  the  Sphinx, 
186;  Birth  of  Venus,  1 15 

Innes,  George,  1 825-1 894,  Ameri- 
can— Niagara  Falls,  211 


Johnstone,  J.  H.,  1857-, 
American — Mysteries  of  the 
Night,  350 

K 

Kampf,  Arthur,  1864-,  Ger- 
man— Night  of  March  31, 
1888,  189 

KauflFmann,  Maria  Angelica, 
1 741-1807,  German,  164 

Kaulbach,  W.  von,  1805-1874, 
German — Marguerite,  170 

Keyser,  Thomas  de,  1596  (c.)- 
1679,  Dutch — Lesson  in  Ana- 
tomy, 185 

Kulmbach,  Hans  (Hans  Suess), 
I476(c.)-I522,  German — En- 
tombment of  St.  Catherine, 
263 

L 

Lancret,  Nicolas,  1660-1743, 
French,  180 

Lard,  F.  M.,  late  nineteenth 
century,  French — Glory  For- 
gets not  Obscure  Heroes,  191 

La  Touche,  G.,  1854-1913, 
French,  285 — Firework  pic- 
tures, 213 

La  Tour,  Maurice  Q.,  1 704-1 788, 
French — Madame  de  la  Pope- 
linifere,  174;  Mdlle.  Camargo, 
174;  Madame  de  Pompadour, 

174 

Latour,  I.  H.  Fantin,  1836-1904, 
French,  285 


Lawrence,  Thomas,  1769- 1830, 

British,  161,  224 
Le   Brun,    Charles,    1619-1690, 

French,  163 — Death  of  Cato, 

191 
Leigh  ton,  F.,  1 830- 1896,  British 

— Captive  Andromache,  171 
Leoni,  Leone,  died  1590,  Italian, 

323 

Le  Sueur,  E.,  1616-1655,  French, 
163 — Venus  reposing,  118; 
The  Virgin  appearing  to  St. 
Martin,  261 

Levy,  H.  L.,  1 840-1904,  French 
— Young  Girl  and  Death,  191 

Liberale  di  Verona,  1452-15 19, 
ItaUan  [Veronese] — Magda- 
lene with  Saints,  265 

Lionardo  da  Vinci,  1452-1519, 
Italian  [Milanese],  16,  18,  30, 
96,  172,  283,  325 — The  Last 
Supper,  69,  93;  Mona  Lisa 
(Paris),  151,  242,  341 — (for- 
merly Boston),  242,  340; 
Litta  Madonna,  240,  Plate  21; 
Virgin  and  Child  with  St. 
Anne,  172,  243 

Lippi,  Filippo,  1406-1469,  Ital- 
ian [Florentine],  96 — Virgin 
and  Child,  103,  251 

Loefftz,  L.,  1 845-,  German — 
The  Dead  Chnst,  171 

Longepied,  L.,  1 849-1 888, 
French — ImmortaHty,  191 

Longhi,  Pietro,  1702-1762, 
Italian,  31 

Lorenzetto,  P.,  first  half  four- 
teenth century,  Italian  [Sien- 
nese] — Madonna    and    Child, 

lOI 

Lotto,  Lorenzo,  1480-1556, 
Italian  [Venetian] — Three 

Ages  of  Man,  179;  Triumph  of 
Chastity,  226 

Luca  di  Tome,  first  half  four- 
teenth century,  Itahan  [Sien- 
nese],  261 

Luini,  Avuelio  (A.  del  Lupino), 
1 530-1 593,  Italian  [Milanese], 
288 

Luini,  Bernadino  (B.  del  Lu- 
pino),   1475 (c-)-i 536,   Italian 


Index  of  Sculptors  and  Painters     363 


Luini — Continued 

[Milanese] — Entombment  of 
St.    Catherine,    263;    Salome, 

173 

Lux,  H.  L.,  late  nmeteenth  cen- 
tury, French — Sarpedon,  268 

Lysippus,  fourth  century  B.C., 
Greek,  10 — Hercules  in  de- 
pressed mood,  344 

M 

Mainardi,  S.,  died  about  1515, 
Italian  [Florentine] — Ma- 

donna giving  her  girdle  to  St. 
Thomas,  261 

Maitre  de  Flemelle  (Robert 
Campin),  I375(c.)-i444, 

French  or  Flemish,  93,  170 

Manet,  Edouard,  1 832-1 883, 
French,  286 — Boy  with  a 
Sword,  165;  Dejeuner  sur 
I'Herbe,  181;  Olympia,  287 

Mantegna,  Andrea,  1431-1506, 
Italian  [Paduan] — The  In- 
fant Christ,  102;  Virgin  and 
Child,  175 

Margaritone  of  Arezzo,  1216- 
1293,  Italian  [Tuscan],  279 

Maratta,  Carlo,  1625-1713,  Ital- 
ian, 33,  284 

Martin,  John,  1 789-1854, 
British — Plague  of  Hail,  210; 
Destruction  of  Pharaoh,  210; 
"I  have  Set  My  Bow  in  the 
Cloud,"  210 

Masaccio  (Tommaso  Guidi), 
1402-1429,  Italian  [Floren- 
tine], 283,  322 — The  Madonna 
enthroned,  104;  Tribute 
Money,  250 

Matisse,  Henry,  i876-,French,  37 

Matsys,  Quentin,  1463 (c.)-i 530, 
Flemish,  93 

Meissonier,  J.  L.  E.,  1 815- 1 891, 
French — 18 14,  256 

Mengs,  Anton  R.,  1 728-1 779, 
German,  352 — St.  John  Bap- 
tist Preaching,  175 

Menzel,  A.,  1815-1905,  German 
— Market  Place  in  Verona, 
252;  Iron  Mill,  252 


Meyer,  K.,  1618-1689,  Swiss, 
179 

Michelangelo  Buonarotti,  1475- 
1564,  Italian  [Florentine, 
Roman],  10,  13,  16,  18,  19,30, 
43.  69,  92,  229,  260,  233,  350— 
Holy  Family  (Florence),  182; 
Last  Judgment,  90,  93;  Re- 
posing Venus,  117;  Leda,  320; 
Night,  320;  San  Lorenzo 
Madonna,  320;  Bargello  Ma- 
donna, 320;  Piet^,  320;  Moses, 
320;  Bacchus,  132;  St.  Stephen 
93;  Creation  of  Adam,  Plate 

24 

Mignard,  Pierre,  1610-1695, 
French,  163 

Millais,  J.  E.,  1 829-1 896,  Brit- 
ish— The  Carpenter's  Shop, 
321 

Millet,  J.  F.,  1814-1875,  French 
— The  Angelus,  352 

Molyn,  P.,  1 592 (c.)- 1 66 1,  Dutch, 
292 

Monet,  C.  J.,  1840-,  French, 
286 

Montagna,  B.,  i45o(c.)-i523, 
Italian  [Venetian] — The  Vir- 
gin Enthroned,  102 

Moro,  Antonio,  1512-1575, 
Flemish — Catilina  of  Portugal 
159;  Maria  of  Austria,  159 

Morot,  A.  N.,  1850-,  French — 
ReichsoflFen,  256 

Moser,  Lucas,  first  half  fifteenth 
century,  German — Voyage  of 
the  Saints,  347 

Murillo,  B.  E.,1618-1682,  Span- 
ish, 19,  163 — Holy  Family, 
103;  Ascension  of  Christ,  260; 
Immaculate  Conception  pic- 
tures, 266 

Myron,  fifth  century  B.C.,  Greek, 
9,  249 — Discobolus,  352;  Mar- 
syas,  331,  352 


N 


Nattier,  J.  M.,  1685- 1766, 
French,  164 — Madame  Louise, 
173 


364    Index  of  Sculptors  and  Painters 


o 


Orcagna  (Andrea  di  Cione), 
I308(c.)-I370,  Italian  [Floren- 
tine]— Assumption  of  the 
Virgin,  261 

Orchardson,  W.  Q.,  1 835-1907, 
British — The  Borgia,  189 


Palma  Giovane  (Jacopo  Palma), 
1544-1628,  Italian  [Venetian] 
— Christ  in  Judgment,  264 

Palma  Vecchio  (Jacopo  Palma), 
i48o(c.)-i528,  Italian  [Vene- 
tian]— Reposing  Venus,  117; 
Assumption,  266 

Parmigiano  (Francesco  Maz- 
zuoli),  1 504-1 540,  Italian 
[Parma] — Madonna  and  Child 
with  Saints,  103 

Pedrini,  Giovanni  (Giampie- 
tiino) ,  late  fifteenth  and  early 
sixteenth  centuries,  Italian 
[Milanese] — Madonna,  173 

Perronneau,  J.  B.,  1715-1783, 
French — Madame         Olivier, 

173 

Perugino,  Pietro  (Pietro  Va- 
nucci),  1446-1524,  Italian 
[Umbrian],  17,  332 — Christ's 
Rule,  264;  Deposition,  345; 
Assumption  of  the  Virgin, 
262;  Ascension,  262,  263;  Bap- 
tism of  Christ,  345;  Madonna 
with  Child  and  Penitents, 
264;  Annunciation,  354;  Cru- 
cifixion (Florence),  345 

Phidias,  fifth  century  B.C.,  Greek 
7,  ID,  44,  57,  91.  108,  122,  328 
— Olympian  Zeus,  68;  Par- 
thenon Athena,  68,  123 

Picart,  B.,  1673-1733,  French — 
The  Burning  Coal,  262 

Piero  di  Cosimo  (Piero  Rosselli 
or  Piero  di  Lorenzo),  1462- 
152 1,  Italian  [Florentine] — 
322 ;  Marsyas  and  the  Pipes  of 
Athena,  124,  225,  331;  Death 
of  Procris,  347;  Mars  and 
Cupid,  347 


Pinturicchio,  B.,  1454-1513, 
Italian  [Umbrian],  332 

Pisano,  Giovanni,  fourteenth 
century,  Italian — Madonna 
and  Child,  loi 

Pisano,  Giunto,  first  half  thir- 
teenth century,  Italian — 
Christ  and  the  Virgin,  261 

Pisano,  Niccolo,  i2o6(c.)-i278, 
Italian — Infant  Christ,  108 

Pissarro,  C,  1 830-1903,  French, 
286 

Polidoro  da  Caravaggio  (Poli- 
doro  Caldara),  died  1543, 
Italian  [Neapolitan],  169 

Pollaiuolo,  Antonio  (A.  di  Ja- 
copo Benci),  1429-1498,  Ital- 
ian [Florentine],  327 — Her- 
cules contemplating  death, 
190,  Plate  16,  343 

Polyclitus,  fifth  century  B.C., 
Greek — Hera,  120 

Polygnotus,  fifth  century  B.C., 
Greek — Frescoes  from  Homer, 
69 

Pontormo  (Jacopo  Carrucci), 
1493-1558,  Italian  [Floren- 
tine], 142 — Venus  Reposing, 
117 

Potter,  Paul,  1625-1654,  Dutch, 
203,  245 

Poussin,  Caspar  (Caspar  Du- 
ghet),  1613-1675,  French,  195 

Poussin,  Nicholas,  1594-1665, 
French,  16,  30,  47,  163,  195 — 
Jonah  cast  into  the  sea,  210; 
Assumption  of  the  Virgin, 
267;  St.  Francis  Xavier,  261 ; 
Vision  of  St.  Paul,  267;  Venus 
Reposing,  117;  Adam  and  Eve, 
265;  Diana  Sleeps  in  the 
Forest,  345;  Descent  from  the 
Cross,  168 

Poynter,  E.  J.,  1836-,  British- 
Building  the  Treasure  City,253 

Praxiteles,  fourth  century  B.C., 
Greek,  7,  10, 13, 44, 136, 328 — 
The  Cnidian  Aphrodite,  112, 
329;  Hermes  and  the  Infant 
Bacchus,  loi,  109,  129 

Prevost,  Jean,  died  1529,  French 
—Old  Man  and  Death.  186 


Index  of  Sculptors  and  Painters     365 


Prudhon,  P.  P.  1758-1823, 
French — Crucifixion,  170;  Ab- 
duction of  Psyche,  266 


Raeburn,  Henry,  1756-1823, 
British,  161 — The  Farmer's 
Wife,  174;  Mrs.  Lauzun,  174; 
Mrs.  Balfour,  174;  Dr.  N. 
Spans,  166 

Raphael  (Rafifaello  Sanzio), 
1473-1520,  Italian  [Umbrian, 
Florentine,  Roman],  7,  10,  13, 
16,  18,  28,  43,  57,  69,  92,  108, 
125,  137,  142,  167,  229,  283— 
God  Appearing  to  Isaac,  261; 
God  Separating  Water  from 
Earth,  261;  Creation  of  the 
Sun  and  Moon,  261 ;  Trans- 
figuration, 251;  Juhus  II.,  40, 
151,  289;  School  of  Athens, 
144;  Parnassus,  125;  Prophets 
and  Sybils,  243,  263;  Foligna 
Madonna,  263;  Creation  of 
Woman,  263;  Maddalena 
Doni,  242;  Angelo  Doni,  242; 
Study  from  Mona  Lisa,  242; 
The  Redeemer,  243 ;  Madonna 
and  Child  (Bridgewater),  102; 
Madonna  and  Child  with  St. 
John  (Berlin),  102;  Holy 
Family  (Madrid),  Deliver- 
ance of  St.  Peter,  251;  Fire  at 
the  Borgo,  251;  Flight  of  Lot 
and  his  Family,  251 ;  Crucifix- 
ion, 347;  Moses  Striking  the 
Rock,  251;  Saint  Cecilia,  176; 
Saint  Sebastian,  243;  Venus 
Anadyomene,  113;  Christ 
Blessing,  93;  Casa  Tempi 
Madonna,  173;  Cowper  Ma- 
donna, 173;  Leo  X.  and  the 
Cardinals  Medici,  157;  For- 
narina,  173;  Portrait  of  a 
Young  Man,  173;  Mercury 
and  Psyche,  129;  St.  Margaret 
250;  Plate  26;  Annunciation, 
354;  Apollo  and  Marsyas,  125, 
332,  345;  Virgin  with  a  Gold- 
finch, 173,  345;  Sistine  Ma- 
donna, 230 


Ravestyn,  Jan  van,  1572-1657, 
Dutch,  158 

Redon,  O.,  died  19 17,  French — 
Death,  the  Friend,  188 

Regnault,  H.,  1843-1871,  French 
— Automedon  and  the  Horses 
of  Achilles,  256;  Plate  28 

Rembrandt  van  Ryn,  H.,  1606- 
1669,  Dutch,  20,  21,  152,  160, 
283,  289 — Rembrandt  and 
Saskia,  177;  Angel  quitting 
Tobias,  263;  Lesson  in  An- 
atomy, 185;  Lady  with  a  Dog, 
281;  Ascension  of  Christ,  266, 
267;  Night  Watch,  21 ;  Syn- 
dics of  the  Drapers,  281 ; 
Portrait  Young  Man  (Beit 
Coll.),  281 ;  do.  (Wachtmeister 
Coll.),  281;  Martin  Day,  150; 
Machteld  von  Doom,  150; 
Samson  menacing  his  father- 
in-law,  248 

Reni,  Guido,  1575-1642,  Italian 
— Assumption  of  the  Virgin, 
268 

Rethel,  A.,  1816-1859,  German 
— Death  at  a  Masked  Ball, 
187;  Death  the  Friend,  188 

Reynolds,  Joshua,  1 723-1 792, 
British,  142,  154,  160,  224, 
282,  350— The  Infant  Her- 
cules, 176;  Mrs.  Siddons  as 
Tragedy,  161;  Mrs.  Billington 
as  Cecilia,  i6i;  Hon.  Lavinia 
Bingham,  174;  Mrs.  Abington, 
174;  Viscountess  Crosbie,  166 

Riccio  (Andrea  Briosco),  1470- 
1532,  Italian,  323,  326 

Ribera,  Giuseppe,  1593- 1656, 
Italian,  17 

Rigaud,  H.,  1659-1743,  French, 
163 — Louis  XV.  as  a  boy,  173 

Robbia,  Luca  della,  1400-1482, 
Italian,  325 

Robbia,  Andrea  della  1435- 
1525,  Italian,  104 

Roberts,  David,  1 796-1864,  Brit- 
ish— The     Israelites     depart, 

257 
Rodin,  A.,    1840-1917,   French, 
249,   351 — La   Vieille   Heaul- 
mi^re,  317 


366     Index  of  Sculptors  and  Painters 


Roll,  A.  P.,  1 847-,  French, 
271 

Romano,  Giulio  (G.  Pippi), 
1492-1546,  Italian  [Roman] — 
Holy  Family,  104 

Romney,  George,  1734-1802, 
British,  142,  161,  164 — Lady 
Hamilton  as  a  Bacchante, 
174;  William  Booth,  174;  Mrs. 
Thomas  Raikes,  165;  The 
Ladies  Spencer,  166;  Mrs. 
Yates,  174;  Mrs.  Tickle,  174 

Rosa,  Salvator,  1615-1673,  Ital- 
ian, 32 — Samuel's  Curse,  179 

Rosalba  (Rosalba  Carriera), 
1675-1757,  Italian,  164 

Roslin,  A.,   1718-1793,  French, 

173 

Rossellino,  Antonio,  1429-1479, 
Italian,  104 

Rossetti,  D.  G.,  1828-1882, 
British — Annunciation,  270 

Rubens,  P.  P.,  1577-1640,  Flem- 
ish, 16,  20,  30,  46,  152,  226, 
283 — Assumption  of  the 
Virgin  (Dusseldorf),  266;  do. 
(Vienna),  266;  do.  (Augsburg), 
266;  do.  (Brussels),  266;  As- 
cension (Vienna),  267;  do 
(Venice),  268;  Deity  and 
Christ,  266;  Diana  and 
Nymphs,  254;  Plate,  27;  Har- 
vest Landscape  (Munich), 
211;  do.  (Wallace  Coll.),  211; 
Virgin  and  Child  (Rome),  262; 
Birth  of  Venus,  115;  Land- 
scape with  a  Rainbow,  211; 
Shipwreck  of  .^neas,  211; 
Annunciation  (Vienna),  355; 
Landscape  with  Baucis  and 
Philemon,  210;  Funeral  of 
Decius,  188;  Boreas  and  Ore- 
ithyia,  260;  Landscape  by 
Moonlight,  209;  Toilet  of 
Venus,  118;  Christ  on  the 
Cross,  244;  Death  of  Seneca, 
190;  The  Four  Philosophers, 
157;  David's  Last  Song,  176; 
Marie  de'  Medici  series,  226 

Rude,  Frangois,  1 794-1855, 
French — Marshal  Ney,  351; 
Marseillaise,   254 


Ruysdael,  Jacob,  i628(c.)-l682, 
Dutch,  49,  203,  208 — The 
Rising  Storm,  20(5,  Plate  20; 
Landscape  with  flowing  water, 
204,  Plate  19;  The  Marsh,  203 


Sacchi,  Andrea,  1600-1661,  Ital- 
ian, 164 

Saint-Bonvin,  F.,  1817-1887, 
French — ^Ave  Maria,  353 

Saint-Gaudens,  A.,  1848-1907, 
American — Shaw  Memorial 
Relief,  254 

Salviati,  F.  (Francesco  de 
Rossi),  1510-1563,  Italian 
[Florentine] — ^Justice,  179 

Sansovino  (Jacopo  Tatti),  1486- 
1570, ItaUan,  323 

Sarto,  Andrea  del  (Andrea  Ag- 
nolo),  1 488- 1 530,  Italian 
[Florentine],  142 — Holy  Fam- 
ily (Hermitage),  104 

Sassoferrato  (Giovanni  Battisto 
Salvi),  1605-1685,  Italian,  164 

Scheffer,  Ary,  1 795-1 858,  Dutch 
— Temptation  of  Christ,  178 

Schiavone,  Andrea,  1462-1522, 
Italian  [Venetian] — Jupiter 
and  lo,  348 

Schnorr,  J.  von  K.,  1794-1872, 
German — God's  Promise  to 
Abraham,  269 

Schongauer,  Martin,  (c.)  1445- 
149 1,  German,  45 

Schonherr,  C,  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, German — Agony  in  the 
Garden,  265 

Schreyer,  Adolf,  1828- 1899,  Ger- 
man— The  Attack,  257 

Schwind,  M.,  1804-1871,  Aus- 
trian— The  Pleiads,  269,  Plate 
25;  Rainbow,  212;  Phantom 
in  the  Forest,  270 

Scopas,  fourth  century-  B.C., 
Greek,  10 — Demeter,  122, 
Plate  7 

Sebastiano  del  Piombo  (Sebas- 
tian© Luciani),  1485- 1547, 
Italian    [Venetian] — Concert, 


Index  of  Sculptors  and  Painters     367 


Signorelli,  Luca,  i44o(c.)-i52i, 
Italian  [Umbrian],  191 — Por- 
trait of  a  Man,  182;  Madonna 
and  Child,  103,  264 

Simson,  William,  1800- 1847, 
British,  245 

Snyders,  Frans,  15  79- 1677, 
Flemish,  216,  257 

Sodoma,  II,  (Giovanni  A. 
Bazzi),  1477-1549,  Italian 
[Siennese] — Sacrifice  of  Abra- 
ham, 244 

Steen,  Jan,  1629-1679,  Dutch — 
Terrace  Scene,  245 


Tassaert,  O.,  1800-1874,  French, 
17 — Assumption  of  the  Vir- 
gin, 266 

Teniers,  David,  1610-1690, 
Dutch,  90 

Terburg  (or  Terborch),  Gerard, 
1617-1681,  Dutch,     46 — 

Peace  of  Munster,  158 

Thoma,  Hans,  1839-,  German 
— Temptation  of  Christ,  187; 
Cupid  and  Death,  178;  Sin 
and  Death,  187;  Progress  of 
the  gods  to  Walhalla,  212; 
Rainbow,  211;  View  of  Lau- 
fenburg,  204 

Thomson,  John,  1778-1840, 
British — Fast  Castle,  207 ; 
Dunluce  Castle,  207 

Tiepolo,  G.  B.,  1692-1769,  Ital- 
ian, 31 

Timanthes,  fourth  century  B.C., 
Greek — Sacrifice  of  Iphigenia, 
168,  Plate  14,  339 

Tintoretto  (Jacopo  Robusti), 
1518-1594,  ItaHan  [Venetian], 
261 — Bacchus  and  Ariadne, 
270;  Annunciation,  354;  Pre- 
sentation of  the  Virgin,  243 

Titian  (Titiano  VeceUi),  1477- 
1576,  ItaUan  [Venetian],  13, 
40,  108,  148,  152,  283,  336, 
350 — Assumption  of  the  Vir- 
gin, 266;  Sacred  and  Profane 
Love,  138,  181;  Resurrection, 
264 ;  Madonna  of  the  Cherries, 


102;  Meeting  of  Joachim  and 
Anna,  102;  Three  Ages  of 
Man,  179;  Madonna  with  SS. 
Anthony  and  John,  104,  348; 
Jacopo  Pesaro  presented  to 
St.  Peter,  347;  Paul  III.  with 
the  two  Brothers  Famese, 
157,  164;  Reposing  Venus 
(Uffizi),  116;  Venus  Anadyo- 
mene,  115;  Aretino,  144;  Man 
with  the  Gloves,  151 ;  Duke  of 
Alba,  144;  portraits  of  Philip 
II.,  144;  Charles  V.  at  Muhl- 
berg,  149,  347;  portraits  of  his 
Daughter,  149;  Duke  of  Fer- 
rara,  149;  Physician  of  Parma, 
336;  Toilet  of  Venus,  118; 
Christ  on  the  Cross,  244; 
Pharaoh's  Host  overwhelmed, 
257;  self-portrait,  149;  Venus 
and  the  Organ  Player,  166 
Turner,  J.  M.  W.,  1775-1851, 
British,  16,  17,  201 — Arundel 
Castle,  210;  The  Temeraire 
towed  to  her  last  berth,  353 


U 


Uhde,  Fritz  von,  1848-,  German, 
321 — Cavalry  going  into  ac- 
tion, 257;  Revenge,  187;  The 
Three  Magi,  104 


Van  der  Neer,  A.,  1619-1683, 
Dutch,  208 

Van  de  Velde,  W.,  1633- 1707, 
Dutch,  46 

Van  der  Venne,  A.  P.,  1 589-1 661, 
Dutch — The  Soul  Fishery, 
211 

Van  der  Weyden,  Roger,  1400 
(c.)-i464,  Flemish,  93,  170 

Van  Dyck,  Anthony,  15 99-1 641, 
Flemish,  142,  148,  157,  216 — 
Four  Ages,  180;  Christ  on  the 
Cross,  244,  Plate  22;  Earl  of 
Pembroke,  165;  Earl  of  Bed- 
ford, 150;  Philip  le  Roy,  165; 
Henrietta  Maria  (Windsor), 
150;  portrait  of  his  Wife,  166; 


368     Index  of  Sculptors  and  Painters 


Van  Dyck — Continued 

Earl  of  Newport,  150;  Count- 
ess of  Devonshire,  165 
Van  Eyck,  Jan,  I385(c.)-i44i. 
Flemish,  283— Virgin  and 
Child  at  the  Fountain,  263; 
Arnolfini  and  his  Wife,  40; 
Chancellor  RoUin  before  the 
Virgin,  347  _      , 

Van  Gogh,  v.,  1 853-1 890,  Dutch, 
37,  288 

Velasquez,  D.  R.  de  Silva,  1599- 
1660,  Spanish,  152  et  seq.,  283 
—Christ  at  the  Column,  246; 
Las  Meninas,  155.  247;  Coro- 
nation of  the  Virgin,  266;  The 
Drinkers,  182 ;  The  Three  Mu- 
sicians, 175;  The  Breakfast, 
155;  portraits  of  PhiHp  IV., 
153;  Olivares,  149;  Innocent 
X.,151 ;  Don  Antonio  el  Ingles, 
149;  Rokeby  Venus,  119;  Sur- 
render of  Breda,  155;  Christ 
in  the  house  of  Martha,  155 

Venusti,  Marcello,  died  after 
1579,  Italian  [Florentine]— 
Annunciation,  354 

Verestchagin,  V.,  1842-1904, 
Russian,  184 

Vermeer,  Jan  (of  Delft),  1632- 
1675,  Dutch,  20 

Vemet,  E.  J.  Horace,  1789-1863, 
French — La  Smalah,  256 

Veronese,  Paolo  (Paolo  Cahari), 
1528-1588,  Italian  [Venetian], 
231,  286,  350 


Verrocchio,   Andrea   del,    1435- 

1488,  Italian,  325 
Viti,  Timoteo  della,  1470-1523, 

ItaHan  [Umbrian],  332,  345 

W 

Walker,  Horatio,  1858-,  Ameri- 
can— Ave  Maria,  353 

Watteau,  Antoine,  1 684-1 721, 
French,  278,  283 — Embarka- 
tion for  Cythera  (Paris),  254; 
do.  (Berlin),  269 

Watts,  George  F.,  1817-1904, 
British — Death,  the  Friend, 
188,  191 

West,  Benjamin,  1738-1820, 
American — Death  of  Gen- 
eral Wolfe,  190 

Whistler,  J.  A.  McN.,  1834- 
1903,  American,  50,  349 

Wiertz,  A.,  1806-1865,  Belgian 
— The  Orphans,  189;  Things 
of  the  Past,  226 

Wilson,  Richard,  17 14-1782, 
British,  48 

Witt,  J.  H.,  1840-1901,  Ameri- 
can— Bless  the  Lord,  262 

Wouverman,  Philip,  1614-1670, 
Dutch,  203,  245 


Zurbaran,  Francisco,  1598-1662, 
Spanish,  19 


GENERAL  INDEX 


Actors  in  stage  r61es,  portraits 
of,  223 

Aerial  perspective,  Claude  the 
first  master  of,  47;  its  import- 
ance, 198;  method  of  produc- 
ing, 200 

^Esthetic  systems,  all  of  them 
untenable,  3,  274;  Carritt  on, 
274;  of  Hegel,  277;  of  Croce, 

273 

Ages  of  man,  pictures  contrast- 
ing the,  179 

Allegorical  painting,  when  se- 
condary art,  225 

Angel  of  Death  in  art,  instances 
of,  191;  symbol  of,  188 

Angels,  representation  of,  in 
aerial  suspension  and  flight, 
262,  266 

Animal  painting,  in  action,  255; 
ideals  in,  not  possible,  56 

Annunciation,  The,  indication 
of  surprise  in  expression,  270, 

354 

Apelles,  his  Venus  Anadyomene, 
113.  330;  epigrams  on,  331 

Aphrodite  (see  Venus) 

Apollo,  his  representation  in  art, 
124 

Architecture,  its  position  in  the 
Fine  Arts,  53;  imitative  char- 
acter of,  53,  294;  unconcerned 
with  ideals,  58;  produces  sen- 
sorial beauty  only,  64;  sim- 
plicity its  keynote,  75;  stan- 
dard of  judgment  in,  75;  S. 
Colvin  on  292. 

Ares  (see  Mars) 

Aristotle,  on  imitation  in    art, 

34 


215,  292;  on  metrical  form  in 
poetry,  54,  296;  his  division 
of  the  painter's  art,  62;  his 
connection  of  morals  with 
art,  314 

Art,  definition  of,  i ;  its  mimetic 
character,  52 ;  sensorial  beauty, 
first  aim  of,  72;  must  deal 
chiefly  with  types,  55;  inde- 
pendent of  social  and  political 
conditions,  4 ;  of  psychological 
impulses,  8,  14;  great  periods 
of,  8 ;  suggested  evolution  in, 
7 ;  "  Classic ' '  and ' '  Romantic, ' ' 
478;  relation  of,  to  nature,  55; 
popular  appreciation  of,  74; 
Grecian,  cause  of  its  decline, 
10;  ItaUan  Renaissance  of, 
cause  of  its  decline,  1 1 ;  limita- 
tion of  sculpture  and  painting 
in,  81;  Tolstoy's  definition  of, 
275;  ideals  in  (see  The  Ideal 
in  Art) 

Artemis  (see  Diana) 

Artists,  training  necessary  for, 
25 ;  cause  of  variation  in  work 
of,  20;  reputations  of  great, 
283;  as  judges  of  works  of  art, 
305 

Arts  (see  Fine  Arts) 

Assent,  Law  of  General,  72  et 
seq. 

Associated  Arts,  the  arts  as- 
sociated, 53;  first  law  of  the, 
60;  highest  art  in,  recognized 
by  general  opinion,  77;  ideals 
in,  58;  cannot  properly  be 
used  for  moral  or  social  pur- 
poses, 82;  their  method  of 
producing  beauty,  78  et  seq.; 
limitations  of,  80 


369 


370 


General  Index 


Athena,   her   representation    in 

art,  123 
^^         Atmospheric  effects,  limitations 
^^  in  producing,  202 ;  exceptional 

phases,  202 

B 

Bacchus,  his  representation  in 
art,  131 

Barbizon  School,  anticipated  by 
Dutch  masters,  291;  sketches 
of  the,  of  little  importance, 
290;  use  of  heavy  gilt  frames 
for  works  of  the,  291 

Beauty,  definitions  of,  unsatis- 
factory, 2,  59;  alleged  objec- 
tivity of,  2;  highest  form  of, 
72;  unconnected  with  phil- 
osophy, 2;  first  law  of,  in  the 
Associated  Arts,  60;  ideal,  86; 
kinds  of,  in  the  arts,  4,  60, 
273;  degrees  of,  in  the  arts 
generally,  60,  in  painting,  83; 
sensorial  (or  emotional),  60, 
72;  intellectual  (or  beauty  of 
expression),  2,  273;  of  form, 
273;  of  color,  228  et  seq.\ 
methods  of  producing,  78;  as 
the  "expression  of  emotion," 
275;  Longinus  on  the  highest, 
73;  standard  of  judgment  of, 
in  poetry,  77,  in  sculpture,  77, 
in  painting,  77,  in  architec- 
ture, 75,  in  fiction,  77,  in 
landscape,  194,  in  still-life, 
214,  in  secondary  art,  219 
el  seq.;  general  agreement  in 
respect  of,  86 

Bon  Dieu  d'Amiens,  Ruskin  on, 
319;  Farrar  on,  319;  corre- 
sponds with  certain  Greek 
art,  319,  Plate  2 

Brevity  in  expression,  highest 
beauty  in  poetry,  marked  by, 

65 
Broad  style  of  painting,  cause  of, 
with  great  artists,  21;  its 
limitations,  39;  advocacy  of, 
by  impressionists,  38;  as  used 
by  Rembrandt,  281;  by  Hals, 
336 


Bronze  statuettes  of  the  Renais- 
sance, 321  et  seq. 

Byron  on  nature  and  art  in 
respect  of  landscape,  345 


Caricature,  its  place  in  art,  225 

Carritt,  E.  F.,  on  the  result  of 
aesthetic  systems,  275 

Cave  men,  their  art,  5 

Ceres  (see  Demeter) 

Chaldean  Art,  Illustration  of, 
Plate  I 

Character  of  Artists,  influence  of, 
in  their  work,  16 

Cherubs,  use  of,  in  assisting  il- 
lusion of  suspension  in  the  air, 
265 

Christ,  representation  in  art,  92 ; 
the  established  ideal,  92;  Rus- 
kin on  the  best  ideal  of,  319 

Christian  conception  of  the 
Deity,  its  effect  in  art,  88 

"Classic  Art,"  Hegel's  definition, 
277;  varied  meanings  of  the 
term,  278 

Claude  Lorraine,  the  first  great 
landscape  painter,  47;  the 
cause  of  his  success,  16; 
Goethe  on,  49;  the  model  for 
Turner,  49 

Clausen,  G.,  his  definition  of 
Impressionism,  284;  on  Whist- 
ler's nocturnes,  349 

Clouds,  use  of,  in  relation  to  air- 
suspended  figures,  263 

Coast  views,  illusion  of  motion 
in,  206 

Color,  beauty  of,  228  et  seq.;  its 
relative  importance,  228;  in 
landscape,  194;  juxtaposition 
of  pure  colors,  35,  287;  by 
Venetian  artists,  231,  350; 
exceptional  color  effects,  234; 
its  use  by  impressionists, 
34  et  seq. 

Colvin,  S.,  claims  music  and 
architecture  as  non-imitative 
arts,  292 

Comedy,  its  place  in  the  pain- 
ter's art,  224 


General  Index 


371 


Contentment,  quality  of  expres- 
sion in  the  Madonna,  97;  in 
Venus,  119 

Contrast,  its  use  in  composition, 
177;  of  forms,  177;  of  ages, 
179;  of  beauty  and  strength, 
177;  of  Good  and  Evil,  178; 
of  Poverty  and  Wealth,  178; 
of  Vice  and  Virtue,  178;  of 
nude  and  clothed  figures,  180 

Correggio,  and  the  sublime,  229 

Criticism,  the  new,  29 

Croce,  B.,  his  aesthetic  system, 
273;  on  genius,  282 


D 


Darwin,  C,  on  the  result  of 
nerve  exercise,  281 ;  on  natural 
music,  293 

Death,  representation  of,  183 
el  seq.;  in  the  Crucifixion,  184; 
typified  by  a  skeleton,  186; 
in  massacres  and  executions, 
184;  in  interior  scenes,  190; 
funeral  scenes,  188;  scenes  of 
approaching,  190;  Angel  of, 
188 

Decorative  art,  imitation  in,  218 

Deformity  in  art,  89 

Deity,  the,  representation  of, 
92;  ideals  of,  91 

Demeter,  representation  of,  121, 
Plate  7 

Demosthenes,  example  of  his 
art,  300 

De  Quincey,  T.,  on  the  represen- 
tation of  progressive  actions, 
348. 

Descriptive  poetry,  its  limits, 
79;  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, 308 ;  example  from  Soph- 
ocles, 310,  from  Cornelius 
Callus,  309 

Diana,  representation  of,  126 

Dignity,  in  portraiture,  146; 
practice  of  Titian,  148;  of 
Van  Dyck,  148;  of  Velasquez, 
149 

Dionysus  {see  Bacchus) 

Drama,  The,  pictures  from  the 
written,  22 1;  from  the  acted, 


222 ;  importance  of  tragedy  in 
painting,  221 

Drapery,  with  use  of  in  sculp- 
ture, proportions  possible 
which  are  not  feasible  in  nude 
figures,  328;  use  of,  in  painting 
by  Raphael,  251,  352;  for 
assisting  illusions,  260 

Dutch  painters  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  their  limited 
imaginations,  19 


E 


Eaton,  D.  C,  on  the  origin  of 
impressionism,  286 

Egyptian  art,  its  early  high 
development,  7,  Plate  i 

Emotional  element  in  beauty 
(see  Beauty) 

Emotions,  The,  influence  of,  in 
the  work  of  artists,  16;  ex- 
pression of,  in  relation  to 
beauty,  275 

Evolution,  not  applicable  to  art 
generally,  7;  Spencer  on,  276; 
Symonds  on,  276 

Execution  in  painting,  must  be 
balanced  with  imagination,  18; 
of  Hals,  155;  of  Lionardo,  18; 
of  Rembrandt,  19;  of  Velas- 
quez, 153 

Expression,  in  ideals  generally, 
86;  in  Christian  ideals,  gi  et 
seq.;  in  classical  ideals,  106 
et  seq.;  in  portraiture,  141 
et  seq. ;  in  the  representation  of 
grief,  168;  with  the  smile,  171 ; 
the  open  mouth,  174;  in  the 
exhibition  of  deformity,  89; 
in  scenes  of  death,  183;  of 
Raphael,  339;  of  Rembrandt, 
42;  of  the  fourteenth  century 
ItaUan  painters,  279;  of  the 
thirteenth  century  French 
sculptors,  315;  in  the  literary 
arts,  65  et  seq. 


Falconet,  E.,  on  the  representa- 
tion of  grief,  169 


372 


General  Index 


Farrar,  Dean,  on  the  ideal  of 
Christ,  319;  on  the  early  Ital- 
ian painters,  279 

Fiction,  as  a  fine  art,  4,  52 ;  one 
of  the  Associated  Arts,  53; 
imitation  in,  52;  forms  of,  69; 
basic  and  structural  in  char- 
acter, 81;  standard  of  judg- 
ment in,  73;  in  relation  to 
sensorial  beauty,  79;  uncon- 
cerned with  ideals,  58  (see  also 
Novel) 

Fine  Arts,  imitative  in  character, 
52 ;  classified  according  to  their 
signs,  53 ;  their  methods  of  pro- 
ducing beauty,  78;  standards 
of  judgment  in  the,  77 

Fireworks,  unsuitable  for  the 
painter,  212 

Flight,  representation  of  (see 
Illusion  of  suspension  and 
motion  in  the  air) 

Flowers,  their  representation  in 
still-life,  216;  in  decorative 
art,  217 

Foreground  in  landscape,  illusion 
of  opening  distance  in,  202 

Form,  beauty  of,  273;  ideal,  86 

Frames  of  pictures,  their  use  in 
Barbizon  works,  291;  exclu- 
sion of,  in  artificial  means  to 
secure  relief,  240 

French  sculptors  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,  their  forms  in 
the  Greek  maimer,  315;  their 
representation  of  the  Virgin 
and  Child,  loi,  315 

Frescoes,  necessarily  divided  into 
sections,  69;  Reynolds  on 
Raphael's,  303 

Funeral  scenes  in  art,  188 


General  opinion,  standard  of 
judgment  in  all  arts  except 
music,  73,  77 

Genius,  how  produced,  21  et 
seq.;  Reynolds  on,  282;  John- 
son on,  282;  Hogarth  on,  282 

Geology,  study  of,  may  be  assist- 
ed by  landscape  painting,  315 


Gods,  Mythological  (see  Gre- 
cian, imder  their  separate 
headings) ;  Roman,  328 

Grace,  inferior  as  a  special  qual- 
ity in  portraiture,  164;  as 
applied  in  Greece  and  Rome, 
162;  in  sixteenth  century  art, 
163;  in  seventeenth  century 
art,  163;  in  England  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  164;  in 
France,  163;  kinds  of,  338 

Grandeur,  highest  quaUty  of 
beauty  in  architecture,  75; 
practically  impossible  in  land- 
scape, 193;  in  portraiture,  160; 
in  Van  Dyck's  works,  160; 
in  Gainsborough's  works,  160 

Grecian  art,  cause  of  its  decline, 
10;  development  of,  compared 
with  that  of  the  Renaissance, 
10  et  seq. 

Grecian  sculpture,  its  high  place 
in  art,  106;  ideals  in,  88,  95; 
representation  of  adults  with 
children  in,  lOO;  studied  by 
the  great  masters  of  the  Re- 
naissance, 108;  in  portraiture, 
145 

H 

Hals,  Franz,   his  facility,    155; 

his  limited  imagination,   155; 

his  broad  manner,   336;   the 

works  of  pupils  attributed  to 

him,  337 
Hegel,  G.  W.,  his  "periods"  in 

art,  277 
Hephaestus  (see  Vulcan) 
Hera  (see  Juno) 
Hercules,  his  representation  as 

contemplating  death,  190 
Hermes  (see  Mercury) 
Historical  painting,  its  place  in 

art,  83 
Hogarth,  W.,  on  genius,  282 
Holmes,  C.  J.,  on  the  framing  of 

Barbizon  pictures,  291 
Homer,  example  of  his  art,  65 
Hood,    T.,    his   moods   and   his 

work,  17 
Horses,  representation  in  action, 

255 


General  Index 


373 


Human  figure,  principal  sign  in 

the  Associated  Arts,   53,   73; 

produces     highest     form     of 

beauty,  72;  general  ideal  of, 

86;  Greek  ideals,  106 
Humboldt,  A.,  on  the  position 

of  landscape  in  art,  344 
Humorous  subjects,  their  place 

in  the  painter's  art,  224 
Hyperides,  example  of  his  art, 

300 

I 


Ideal  in  art.  The,  only  possible  in 
respect  of  the  human  form,  57, 
87;  inapplicable  to  form  with- 
out expression,  86;  definition 
of,  86;  must  be  general,  86; 
general  agreement  in  respect 
of,  87;  can  only  be  applied 
to  excellence,  89;  limitation 
of,  56;  ideals  of  the  Greeks, 
89,  91,  of  the  early  ItaHans, 
94,  of  the  thirteenth  century 
French  sculptors,  315,  of  the 
Deity,  88,  91,  of  Christ,  92, 
94,  of  the  Madonna,  95,  of 
Zeus,  88,  of  the  other  Grecian 
deities,  89,  of  Phidias,  10, 
of  Raphael,  97,  137,  of  Prax- 
iteles, 10,  III,  of  Michel- 
angelo, 320;  general  ideals, 
135;  universality  of,  138,  315; 
ideal  qualities,  89 

Illusion  of  continuity,  in  death 
scenes,  189 

Illusion  of  movement,  in  land- 
scape, 197;  in  sea  views,  205; 
in  coast  views,  206;  in  sculp- 
ture, 249,  351 ;  in  figure  paint- 
ing, 250  et  seq.;  in  animal 
painting,  255  et  seq.;  may  be 
suggested  by  title  of  work,  257 

Illusion  of  opening  distance,  in 
distance  landscape,  197;  in 
nearground  work,  203;  in  sea 
views,  205 

Illusion  of  reUef,  its  value  in 
painting,  236;  mechanical  me- 
thods of  producing,  240 

Plusion  of  suspension  and  mo- 


tion in  the  air,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  flowing  drapery,  260; 
of  clouds,  263;  of  cherubs, 
265;  of  Angels,  266;  of  smoke, 
268 

Imagination,  The,  influence  of 
precocious,  in  the  production 
of  genius,  23;  must  be  bal- 
anced with  skill  in  execution, 
18;  of  Lionardo,  18;  of  the 
Dutch  painters,  19;  of  the 
Spanish  painters,  19;  of  Shake- 
speare, 23,  24 

Imitation,  the  province  of  art, 
52;  should  be  generalized,  237; 
in  landscape,  194,  in  still- 
life,  214,  in  decorative  art, 
218,  in  architecture,  294,  in 
music,  293;  of  other  arts 
by  the  painter,  221  et  seq.; 
Aristotle  on,  215;  S.  Colvin 
on,  in  respect  of  the  fine  arts, 
292 

Impressionism,  definitions  of ,  25; 
284  et  seq.;  its  origin,  285  et 
seq.;  its  influence,  38;  its 
limitations,  35;  its  defects,  34 
et  seq.;  its  effects,  51;  its  cor- 
respondence with  Sprezza- 
tura,  32 

Industry,  the  key  to  success  in 
art,  24,  282 

Inspiration  in  art,  not  recognized 
by  great  artists,  16;  actual  in- 
stances of,  unknown,  15;  sug- 
gested national,  9  et  seq.;  in- 
dividual, 14 

Interiors,  pictures  of,  their  place 
in  art,  84 

Invention  in  art,  its  relative  im- 
portance, 54;  in  poetry,  54;  in 
painting,  312;  Lessing  on,  in 
poetry  and  painting,  312;  in 
landscape,  193;  the  term  used 
in  two  senses,  311 

Irony,  works  conveying,  unsuit- 
able for  the  painter,  224 

Italy,  Art  of,  decline  of  the 
Renaissance,  11  et  seq. ;  in  the 
seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries,  30  et  seq.;  Renais- 
sance ideals,  12 


374 


General  Index 


Japanese,  theirpractice  in  decora- 
tion, 217 

Johnson,  Dr.,  on  genius,  282 

Juno,  representation  of,  by  the 
painter,  120 

Jupiter,  Greek  representation  of, 
88,  89;  ideal  of,  89,  91 ;  by  the 
painter,  109 


Landscape  painting,  its  place  in 
art,  48,  84;  produces  only  sen- 
sorial beauty,  192;  Humboldt 
on,  344;  signs  in,  199;  disad- 
vantages of,  44;  limitations 
in,  192  et  seq.,  348;  varieties 
of,  49;  relative  difficulty  of 
execution  in,  48;  compositions 
must  be  invented,  194;  illusion 
of  motion  in,  197  et  seq. ;  pre- 
cise imitation  necessary  in, 
194;  as  a  useful  art,  314; 
early  development  of,  46,  in 
ancient  Rome,  45,  in  Italy, 
47,  in  Holland,  46,  in  England 
and  France,  48 

Lanzi,  A.  L.,  on  the  range  of 
Raphael  in  expression,  339 

La  Touche,  G.,  on  the  origin  of 
impressionism,  286 

Latour,  Fantin,  and  the  origin  of 
impressionism,  285 

Laugh,  a,  when  unobjection- 
able in  painting,  177 

Lessing,  G.,  on  progressive  ac- 
tions, 348;  on  the  relative  im- 
portance of  invention  and 
execution,  312;  on  the  re- 
presentation of  grief,  169;  on 
descriptive  poetry,  309;  on 
signs  in  art,  346;  on  Homer 
and  the  beauty  of  Helen,  298 ; 
on  the  Laocoon  design,  311;  on 
the  dictum  of  Simonides,  307; 
on  ugliness  in  poetry  and 
painting,  341 

Lewes,  G.  H.,  on  the  execution 
of  signs  in  art,  346 

Lightning,  its  use  in  landscape, 


209;  must  be  subordinated, 
209 ;  where  used  in  painting  by 
great  masters,  210 

Lionardo  da  Vinci,  his  imagina- 
tion compared  with  his  execu- 
tion, 18;  his  relief,  239;  on 
success  in  painting,  16;  his 
representation  of  Christ,  93 

Literary  arts,  the  painter  must 
take  his  action  from  them  or 
from  nature  direct,  81  (see 
Poetry  and  The  Novel) 

Literary  movement  in  England 
in  the  sixteenth  century,  278 

Longinus,  on  the  test  of  the  sub- 
lime and  beautiful,  73;  on 
certain  examples  of  beauty  in 
the  literary  arts,  300 

Luini,  A.,  On  an  "impression- 
ist" landscape  by  Titian,  288 

M 

MacCoU,  D.  S.,  on  the  origin  of 
impressionism,  284 

Madonna,  The,  her  representa- 
tion, the  test  of  art  during  the 
Renaissance,  12,  by  Cimabue 
and  Giotto,  95,  in  Crucifixion 
scenes,  99;  her  sturoundings 
in  art,  99,  her  representation 
at  different  ages,  98,  Michel- 
angelo on  her  presimied  age, 
320;  her  presumed  social  con- 
dition, 100;  the  ideal  of  the 
early  Italian,  12,  95,  of 
Raphael,  97,  Michelangelo's 
portrayals  of,  320;  limitations 
in  the  ideal  of,  98 

Madonna  and  Child,  representa- 
tion of,  by  thirteenth  century 
French  sculptors,  loi,  315; 
in  Italy,  loi;  changes  in 
grouping  of,  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  loi;  practice  of  later 
artists,  102  et  seq. 

Manner  in  painting,  its  limita- 
tions, 39 ;  the  public  indifferent 
to,  39;  of  Rembrandt,  21;  of 
Hals,  336 

Manet,  E.,  his  connection  with 
the  rise  of  impressionism,  287 


General  Index 


375 


Marine  painting  {see  Sea  views) 

Mars,  representation  of,  in  paint- 
ing, 128 

Mauclair,  C,  on  impressionism, 
285 

Mengs,  A.  R.,  on  Raphael's 
treatment  of  drapery,  352 

Mercury,  his  representation  in 
painting,  129 

Metaphor,  with  the  poet,  65, 
227,  296;  with  the  painter, 
226 

Michelangelo,  and  the  sublime, 
229;  his  studies  in  Greek  art, 
108;  Reynolds  on,  282;  his 
ideals  of  the  Madonna,  320; 
on  her  presumed  age  at  the 
Crucifixion,  320;  on  the  cause 
of  Raphael's  success,  16;  on 
the  public  judgment  of  works 
of  art,  304;  on  the  Venetian 
painters,  350 

Miller,  Marion  M.,  his  transla- 
tion of  Sappho's  Hymn  to 
Aphrodite,  302 

Minerva  {see  Athena) 

Modesty,  quality  in  expression 
unsuitable  to  a  goddess,  119 

Mona  Lisa,  the  Louvre  example, 
151,  172;  the  Boston  example, 
172;  her  reputed  age  in  the 
picture,  240;  her  smile,  341 

Mood,  influence  of,  in  the  work 
of  artists,  17 

Moonlight  scenes,  their  place  in 
art,  208 

Morals,  pictures  illustrating, 
their  place  in  art,  85 

Moreau-Vautier,  C.,  on  the 
juxtaposition  of  pure  colors, 
287 

Music,  highest  beauty  in,  pro- 
duced by  complex  combina- 
tions of  signs,  73;  greatest 
works  in,  the  least  popular,  75; 
ideals  not  possible  in,  58; 
cannot  present  intellectual 
beauty,  64;  standard  of  judg- 
ment in,  305;  cannot  be  con- 
nected with  painting,  285;  its 
connection  with  poetry,  54,  76; 
imitative    character    of,    53, 


293;    claimed    by    Colvin    as 

non-imitative,     292 ;     Darwin 

on  natural,  293 
Muther,    R.,   on   the   origin  of 

Impressionism,  287 
Mystery  in  painting,    indicates 

inferior  art,  341 
Mythological      subjects,      their 

place  in  painting,  83,  133 


N 


Nature,  relation  of,  to  art,  57; 
and  landscape,  Byron  on,  345 

Near-ground  painting  in  land- 
scape, 202 

Neptune,  his  representation  in 
painting,  127 

Nerves  of  the  senses,  their  ad- 
vanced condition  at  birth  cause 
of  precocity  in  art,  21;  alike 
in  all  people,  86 ;  connection  of 
genius  with  development  of, 
22;  physiological  changes  in, 
22,  72;  Darwin  on  the,  281 

Night,  should  be  symbolized  in 
painting,  350;  Whistler  at- 
tempts to  represent  beauty 
of.  349  .  .         , 

Nocturnes,  origin  of  Whistler  s 

349 

Norwich  school  of  painting,  48 
Novel,  the,  compared  with  the 
short  story,  70;  limit  of,  71; 
of  little  service  to  the  painter, 
221  {see  Fiction) 
Nude  with  clothed  figures,  con- 
trasts of,  180 


O 


Objectivity  of  beauty,  2 
Open  Mouth,   The,    174;   when 
not  objectionable,  177 


Painter,  the,   his   requirements, 

25 
Painting,  imitative  character  of, 
52;  degrees  of  beauty  in,  83; 
compared  with  sculpture,  135; 


376 


General  Index 


Painting — Continued 
its  relation  to  poetry,  307; 
general  ideals  in,  86  et  seq.; 
classical  ideals  in,  106  et  seq. ; 
Christian  ideals  in,  gi  et  seq.; 
action  cannot  be  originated 
in  81;  great,  marked  by  sim- 
plicity, 69;  standard  of  judg- 
ment in,  73 ;  general  expression 
in,  167;  relation  of  invention 
to  execution  in,  312;  broad 
manner  of,  39;  of  divinities, 
109;  of  classical  scenes,  133; 
of  humorous  subjects,  224; 
of  contrasts,  177  et  seq.;  of 
scenes  from  fiction,  221,  from 
the  written  drama,  221,  from 
the  acted  drama,  222;  of  por- 
traits in  character,  222;  of 
ugliness,  341;  deformity  in, 
178;  representation  of  death 
in,  183;  portrait,  141  et  seq.; 
landscape,  192  et  seq. ;  of  moon- 
light scenes,  208;  of  still-life, 
214;  secondary  art  of,  85,  219; 
metaphor  in,  226;  color  in, 
228  et  seq.;  impressionist,  25; 
of  events  in  time,  219;  sym- 
bolical, 227;  Barbizon  school 
of,  290;  quality  of  grace  in, 
161,  of  contentment,  97,  of 
modesty  in  respect  of  god- 
desses, 119;  illusion  of  relief 
in,  239  et  seq. ;  illusion  of  move- 
ment in,  249,  in  animal  action, 
255,  of  opening  distance,  197, 
of  suspension  in  the  air,  259, 
in  representation  of  progres- 
sive actions,  204,  of  continuity 
189,  assisted  by  title,  257; 
portraiture,  141  et  seq. 

Pastoral  occupations,  pictures 
representing,  84 

Periods  of  art,  not  attributable 
to  national  aesthetic  stimulus, 
8;  Hegel's,  277 

Phidias,  his  exalted  position  in 
art,  10;  his  ideals,  91 

Philips,  A.,  his  translation  of 
Sappho's  Ode  to  Anactoria,  301 

Philosophy,  art  not  specially 
related  to,  2 


Pythian,  F.,  on  the  origin  of 
impressionism,  286 

Poe,  Edgar  A.,  on  sadness  and 
beauty,  280 

Poetry,  the  highest  art,  81;  its 
imitative  scope,  52;  not  pri- 
marily a  combined  art,  55; 
value  of  metrical  form  in,  54; 
its  association  with  music,  76; 
its  relation  to  painting,  307; 
cannot  depict  sensorial  beauty 
by  description,  79;  descriptive, 
309;  in  relation  to  human 
beauty,  79,  to  natural  beauty, 
79;  basic  and  structural  in 
character,  81;  its  range  un- 
limited, 81;  ugliness  in,  341; 
standard  of  judgment  in,  73, 
76 ;  Watts-Dunton's  defini- 
tion of,  296;  translations  of, 
297 

Pompeian  Frescoes,  45,  162,  169, 
170,  171,261,344 

Popular  appreciation  of  art,  73 
et  seq.,  306;  Tolstoy  on,  307 

Portraiture,  its  position  in  art, 
141;  variation  in  work  of 
portraitists,  141 ;  generaliza- 
tion, 143;  added  qualities  in 
148 ;  quality  of  dignity  in,  146; 
quality  of  nobility  in,  161 ; 
action  in,  164;  use  of  the  smile 
in,  171;  of  stage  characters, 
223;  in  ancient  Greece,  145, 
162;  in  ancient  Rome,  145;  of 
women,  158;  of  Raphael,  151; 
of  Titian,  148;  of  Moro,  159; 
of  Van  Dyck,  150;  of  Rem- 
brandt, 150;  of  Velasquez 
149,  152;  of  Hals,  155;  of 
Reynolds,  160;  of  Gainsbor- 
ough, 160;  of  Romney,  161; 
eflfects  of  fashion  in,  159;  qual- 
ity of  grace  in,  161 ;  limitations 
in,  141,  143;  decoration  in, 
should  be  subordinated,  156; 
multiple  portraits,  156 

Poseidon  (see  Neptune) 

Praxiteles,  his  development  of 
new  ideals,  iii;  his  Cnidian 
Aphrodite,  in 

Precocity  in  art,  cause  of,  22 


General  Index 


377 


Progressive  actions,  in  figure 
subjects,  254;  in  sea  views,  204; 
in  coast  scenes,  206;  in  land- 
scape, 203;  Lessing  on,  348; 
De  Quincey  on,  349 

Psychological  influence  in  art 
conceptions,  alleged,  14 


Q 


Quintilian:    on   the  Sacrifice  of 
Iphigenia,  by  Timanthes,  340 


R 


Rainbow,  its  use  in  landscape, 
210  et  seq. 

Raphael,  and  the  sublime,  229; 
his  superiority  the  cause  of  the 
decline  of  the  Renaissance, 
1 1 ;  his  achievement  in  the 
ideal  Madonna,  12  et  seq., 
140;  the  composition  of  his 
ideal,  97;  his  range  in  expres- 
sion, 167;  Lanzi  on,  339;  his 
representation  of  movement, 
250;  his  portraiture,  151;  his 
drapery  arrangements,  250; 
his  representation  of  suspen- 
sion in  the  air,  261;  his  study 
of  ancient  art,  108;  his  fresco 
work,  69;  Michelangelo  on, 
16;  his  trees,  345 

Recognition,  Law  of,  explanation 
of,  57;  examples  of,  65  et  seq.; 
music  and  architecture  ex- 
cluded from  the,  64;  division 
of  the  arts  in  applying,  62 

Relief  (see  "Illusion  of  ReUef") 

Rembrandt,  his  imagination 
compared  with  his  execution, 
20;  cause  of  variation  in  his 
work,  21;  his  simplicity,  150; 
his  broad  work,  289;  his  use 
of  color,  152;  his  position  in 
art,  44;  his  representation  of 
character,  42;  suggested  as 
impressionist,  41,  290;  com- 
pared with  the  idealists,  43; 
his  palette-knife  pictures,  28 1; 
classification  of  his  portraits, 
281 


Renaissance  (see  Italy,  Art  of) 

Repose,  in  portraiture,  1 64 ;  in  the 
representation  of  Venus,  116 

Reynolds,  Joshua,  his  high  posi- 
tion in  portraiture,  160;  on 
color,  350;  on  the  representa- 
tion of  grief,  1 69 ;  on  the  cause 
of  excellence  in  painting,  282; 
on  genius  in  art,  282 ;  nobility 
in  his  portraits,  160;  as  a 
painter  of  women,  161 ;  on  the 
work  of  Raphael,  303;  on 
Michelangelo,  282;  on  the 
early  Italian  painters,  280; 
on  the  Venetian  painters,  350; 
his  portraits  of  actors  in  char- 
acter, 224;  his  use  of  the 
smile,  174 

Rodin,  A.,  on  the  suggestion  of 
movement  in  sculpture,  249, 
351;  on  ugliness  in  art,  317; 
his  La  Vieille  Heaulmi^re,  317; 
on  Greek  ideals,  319 

Romans,  The  ancient,  had  no 
separate  sacred  art,  328 

"Romantic  Art,"  its  various 
meanings,  278;  Hegel's  period 
of,  277 

Romney,  G.,  the  quality  of  grace 
in  his  portraits,    161 

Ruskin,  J.,  on  the  trees  of  Ra- 
phael, 345;  on  the  ideal  of 
Christ,  319;  on  the  position  of 
landscape  in  art,  344;  on  the 
Italian  painters  of  the  four- 
teenth century,  279 

Ruysdael,  Jacob,  his  painting  of 
breaking  water,  204,  206:  his 
near-ground  work,  203 


Sacred  Art,  offers  highest  scope 
for  the  artist,  63;  in  Greece, 
91;  in  Italy,  12 

Sadness,  as  a  quality  of  beauty, 
280 

Saints,  representation  of,  104 

Sappho,  her  Ode  to  Anactoria, 
and  the  cause  of  its  beauty, 
67 ;  translation  of  the  Ode,  301 ; 
her  Hymn  to  Aphrodite,  302 


378 


General  Index 


Satan,  representation  of,  178 

Satire,  works  conveying,  un- 
suited  to  the  painter,  224 

Schopenhauer,  on  music  as  a 
non-imitative  art,   292 

Sculpture,  its  imitative  scope, 
52;  ideals  in,  135;  compared 
with  painting,  135;  importance 
of  simplicity  in,  68;  standard 
of  judgment  in,  73 ;  illusion  of 
motion  in,  249;  Rodin  on  the 
illusion,  35 1 ;  in  ancient  Greece, 
106;  in  Greek  and  Roman  por- 
traiture, 145;  thirteenth  cen- 
tury French,  315 

Sea  views,  illusion  of  opening 
distance  in,  204;  progressive 
actions  in,  206 

Secondary  Art,  its  nature,  85;  in 
historical  work,  220;  in  ac- 
tions drawn  from  the  noveUst, 
221;  from  the  written  drama, 
221;  from  the  acted  drama, 
222;  humorous  pictures,  224; 
in  allegorical  and  symbolical 
painting,  225  et  seq. 

Shakespeare,  his  imagination, 
23;  example  of  his  art,  66;  re- 
presents characters  above  ex- 
perience, 61 

Short  story,  the,  its  essentials, 
70;  compared  with  the  novel, 
69  (see  also  Fiction) 

Signs,  of  the  fine  arts,  56;  separ- 
ation of  the  arts  according  to 
character  of,  53 ;  the  two  classes 
of,  in  art,  56;  must  be  com- 
pletely painted,  199;  Lewes 
on,  346;  Lessing  on,  346;  sug- 
gestive, belong  to  the  poet  and 
not  to  the  painter,  200 

Simonides,  on  the  relation  of 
_  poetry  to  painting,  307 

Simplicity,  necessary  in  the 
higher  forms  of  the  Associated 
Arts,  71 

Skeleton,  as  a  symbol  in  art, 
186  et  seq. 

Smile,  the,  transitory,  should  be 
avoided  in  art,  171;  in  Ra- 
phael's work,  173;  in  Lion- 
ardo's,  172,  341 ;  of  the  Milan- 


ese artists  generally,  172;  in 
portraiture,  173;  in  French 
portraits,  174;  in  British,  174 

Smoke,  use  of,  in  illusions  of  air 
suspension,  268 

Sophocles,  example  of  descrip- 
tive poetry  from,  310 

Spencer,  Herbert,  on  evolution 
in  art,  276 

Sporting  pictures,  their  place  in 
art,  85 

Sprezzatura,  origin  of,  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  30  et 
seq.;  correspondence  with  im- 
pressionism, 32 

Stage  scenes,  pictures  of,  222 

Still-life,  its  place  in  art,  85,  214; 
beauty  in,  214;  its  varieties, 
215;  in  decoration,  218;  cus- 
tom of  the  Japanese  in,  217 

Stories,  pictures  illustrating, 
their  place  in  art,  85,  221; 
painter  of,  subordinate  to  the 
writer,  221 

Sublime,  The,  Longinus  on,  73; 
painters  who  have  achieved, 
229 

Supreme  Being,  final  ideal  of  hu- 
man form  can  only  apply  to,  88 

"Symbolic"  period  of  painting, 
Hegel's,  277 

Sjmibolical  painting,  when  se- 
condary art,  227 

Symonds,  J.  A.,  on  evolution  in 
art,  271;  on  the  Venetian 
artists,  350 


Taine,  H.,  on  music  as  a  non- 
imitative  art,  294 

Tanagra  figures,  quality  of  grace 
in,  162 

Temperament,  influence  of,  on 
the  work  of  artists,  16 

Titian,  as  a  portrait  painter,  144; 
the  dignified  pose  in  his  fig- 
ures, 148;  the  pose  a  test  of 
his  portraiture,  335 ;  his  impres- 
sionist landscape,  288;  his 
coloring,  231;  some  doubtful 
attributions  to,  336 


General  Index 


379 


Titles  of  pictures,  may  assist  in 
providing  illusion  of  motion, 
257;  may  add  interest  to  a 
work,  352 

Tolstoy,  Leo,  on  the  meaning  of 
"art,"  275;  on  popular  appre- 
ciation of  art,  307 

Tragedy,  only  section  of  drama 
which  the  painter  may  proper- 
ly use,  221 

Translations  of  poetry,  varying 
values  of,  297 

Trees  in  art,  the  slender  trees  of 
Raphael,  345;  of  other  artists, 

345 
Turner,  J.  M.  W.,  secret  of  his 

success,  16 
Twilight  scenes,   their  place  in 

art,  208 
Types,  importance  of,  in  nature 

and  art,  55 


U 


Ugliness  in  art,  may  be  used  in 
poetry,  but  not  in  painting, 
342 ;  Rodin  on,  3 1 7 ;  Lessing  on 
341;  Waldstein  on,  318 

Uncivilized  races,  their  under- 
standing of  beauty,  333 


V 


Van  Dyck,  A.,  30;  his  portrait- 
ure, 150 

Velasquez,  his  place  in  art,  44; 
his  simplicity  in  design,  152; 
his  limited  imagination,  155; 
his  execution,  153;  compared 
with    the    idealists,    43;    his 


perfect  balance,  43;  claimed 
as  an  impressionist,  41,  290 

Venus,  her  representation  in  art, 
no;  Anadyomene,  1146^  seq.; 
reposing,  116;  at  her  toilet, 
118;  of  Phidias,  in;  of  Prax- 
iteles, III  et  seq.;  of  Apelles, 
113;  of  Raphael,  114;  of 
Michelangelo,  117;  de'  Medi- 
ci, 119;  of  Titian,  115;  of  other 
artists,  115  et  seq. 

Verestchagin,  V.,  his  war  pic- 
tures, 184 

Vinci,  Lionardo  da  (see  Lion- 
ardo) 

Virgin,  The  (see  Madonna,  The) 

Virtue  and  Vice,  pictures  re- 
presenting, 178 

Vulcan,  representation  in  paint- 
ing, 132 

W 

Waldstein,  C,  on  ugliness  in 
sculpture,  318 

Watts-Dunton,  T.,  his  defini- 
tion of  poetry,  296 

Whistler,  J.  McN.,  his  nocturnes, 
349 

Wings,  use  of,  in  suspended 
figures,  262 

Women  in  portraiture,  during 
the  Renaissance,  159;  by 
Moro,  159;  by  Van  Dyck,  159; 
by  the  eighteenth  centiuy 
British  artists,  161;  Reynolds 
preeminent  in  painting  of,  160 


Zeus  (see  Jupiter) 


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